a 


:D 


/^ 


o 


Digitized  by  tine  Internet  Arciiive 

in  2007  witii  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


littp://www.arcliive.org/details/annofavaOOIiubbiala 


Ann  Hasseltine  Judson 


ANN   OF  AVA 


BY 
ETHEL  DANIELS  HUBBARD 


ILLUSTRATED    BY 

JESSIE   GILLESPIE 


NEW  YORK 

Missionary  Education  Movement  of  the 

United  States  and  Canada 


COPTKIOHT.   lOIS,  BT 

MIMIOMABT  EDUCATION  MOVEMENT  Or  Tm 

ONITED  STATES  AND  CANADA 

NEW  TOBK 


STACK 
ANNEX 

ev 

3X7/ 
^8/W? 

ILLUSTRATIONS 


Ann  Hasseltine  Judson 

Frontispiece 

The  Hasseltine  Home  . 

Page         9 

Harriet  Newell    .          .          .          . 

.      '•          25 

Adoniram  Judson 

.      "          33 

The  Caravan 

.      **          39 

Rangoon  River  Front    . 

.     '•         77 

The  Golden  Pagoda 

.     "          81 

A  Burmese  House 

.      '*          85 

The  Queen's  Monastery 

.     "       117 

A  Burmese  Christian  Home  . 

.     "        135 

A  Burmese  Cart    . 

,     "       199 

The  Hopia  Tree    . 

.      "       241 

2135393   • 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTBB 

PAoii 

I 

Nancy  Hasseltine 

1 

II 

The  Shadow  of  Coming  Events 

13 

in 

Girl  Pioneers       .... 

21 

IV 

A  Long  Good-by  .... 

35 

V 

Perplexities  on  Every  Side 

44 

VI 

The  Isle  of  France     . 

61 

VII 

A  Home  at  Last  .... 

70 

VIII 

"  By  the  Old  Rangoon  Pagoda  " 

80 

IX 

Children's  Voices 

94 

X 

Ann's  Dilemma     .... 

110 

XI 

"  The  East  A-callin'  "      . 

129 

XII 

The  Golden  City  of  Ava  . 

148 

xin 

The  Heroine  of  Ava  . 

166 

XIV 

Prisoners  in  a  Heathen  Village 

195 

XV 

The  British  Camp 

.     217 

XVI 

The  Hopia  Tree  .... 

.     230 

Ann  of  Ava 

NANCY  HASSELTINE 

NANCY  HASSELTINE  came  in 
from  her  favorite  walk  by  the  river 
and  threw  herself  down  in  the  big 
chair  by  the  front  window.  It  was  April, 
and  the  air  was  intoxicatingly  sweet  with 
sunlight  and  the  fragrance  of  the  damp 
earth.  Moreover,  the  river  was  riotously 
blue  and  turbulent,  true  to  its  Indian 
name,  Merrimac,  "  the  place  of  strong  cur- 
rents." 

Nancy's  cheeks  flamed  with  color,  her 
brown  eyes  shone  with  the  fire  of  spring,  and 
her  curly  hair  was  blown  bewitchingly  about 
her  face.  There  was  not  a  prettier  girl  in 
Bradford  nor  in  all  the  valley  of  the  Mer- 
rimac than  Ann,  generally  known  as  Nancy 
Hasseltine,  and  none  more  popular. 

There  seemed  to  be  no  limit  to  her  love 
of  good  times  and  to  her  merry,  laughing 

[1] 


Ann  of  Ava 


mood.  She  could  bribe  the  bell-ringer  at  the 
academy  with  a  smile.  At  home  she  was  the 
life  of  the  household.  This  last  winter  had 
been  the  gayest  of  all  her  sixteen  years, 
thanks  to  that  same  little  unpainted  academy 
down  the  road,  where  more  than  eighty  boys 
and  girls  were  gathered  in  school. 

There  were  no  high  schools  in  Nancy's 
day  and  no  regular  sessions  of  grammar  or 
primary  school.  A  small,  red  schoolhouse 
stood  across  the  way  from  the  meeting-house, 
down  near  the  frog  pond  and  the  alder 
swamp.  Sometimes  the  men  of  the  town 
would  meet  and  vote  to  supply  wood  for  the 
school  fire  during  one  or  two  months.  Then 
school  would  keep,  and  the  boys  and  girls 
would  have  a  brief  chance  at  book-learning. 

By  and  by,  in  the  springtime  of  1803,  some 
wise  parents  decided  that  something  must 
be  done  for  the  further  education  of  their 
children.  Whereupon  about  thirty  of  the 
"  Inhabitants  of  the  First  Parish  in  Brad- 
ford,"— so  the  records  read, — met  together 
and  agreed  to  erect  a  building  for  an  acad" 
emyl  They  subscribed  for  shares  in  the 
building  fund  until  fifteen  hundred  dollars 


Ann  of  Ava 


was  pledged.  John  Hasseltine,  Nancy's 
father,  gave  a  hundred  dollars. 

Then  these  enterprising  New  England  set- 
tlers went  to  work  and  built  the  academy, 
completing  it  in  just  three  months  from  the 
time  of  the  meeting  in  March.  Early  in 
June  the  first  term  opened,  at  the  time  of 
j'^ear  when  schools  nowadays  are  getting  ready 
to  close. 

More  than  fifty  pupils  hastened  to  the 
new  academy  from  Bradford  and  other 
Massachusetts  towns,  from  Vermont,  New 
Hampshire,  and  even  from  South  Carolina, 
many  of  them  traveling  the  long  distance  by 
stage-coach.  Nancy  Hasseltine  and  her  three 
sisters  were  among  the  first  pupils. 

On  the  outside  the  building  looked  like  a 
small  district  schoolhouse,  such  as  we  see  to- 
day in  the  heart  of  the  country.  Inside  were 
two  classrooms,  one  on  the  right  for  the 
boys,  another  on  the  left  for  the  girls.  A 
narrow  corridor  separated  them  and  pro- 
jected somewhat  in  front.  Above  this  pro-- 
jection  a  square  tower  rose  to  the  height  of 
a  second  story,  culminating  in  an  arched 
belfry  in  which  hung  the  bell,     Of  course 

[3] 


Ann  of  Ava 


there  was  no  dormitory,  large  or  small,  to 
house  the  pupils  from  far  away,  so  they 
boarded  around  at  the  various  farms. 

The  Hasseltine  house,  a  few  rods  west  of 
the  academy  on  the  "  Boston  Road,"  was  the 
favorite  resort  of  the  boys  and  girls.  Mr. 
Hasseltine  was  so  heartily  in  sympathy  with 
the  young  people  that  when  he  built  his  house 
he  finished  a  hall  at  the  rear  of  the  second 
story  to  be  used  for  their  parties  and  enter- 
tainments. 

After  the  new  academy  was  opened, 
Nancy's  hours  outside  school  were  packed 
full  of  merrymaking.  This  last  winter  there 
had  been  parties  galore.  The  little  village  of 
Bradford,  deviating  from  the  prim  traditions 
of  New  England,  was  a  center  of  social  gaiety. 

Think  not  that  studies  were  seriously 
neglected,  because,  from  the  beginning,  Brad- 
ford Academy  stood  for  high  standards,  al- 
though in  those  early  daj^s  the  course  of 
study  was  not  so  complex  and  difficult  as 
it  is  thought  to  be  in  most  schools  to-day. 
The  pupils  acquired  their  knowledge  of  Eng- 
lish grammar  by  reading  and  parsing  the 
standard  literature  of  the  day,  such  as  Pope's 

w 


Aftn  of  Ava 


Essay  on  Man  and  Paradise  Lost.  They 
made  a  fine  art  of  penmanship,  map  draw- 
ing, and  elaborate  embroidery.  Then,  too, 
they  studied  English  history,  geography, 
arithmetic,  and  other  branches;  and  grad- 
ually the  range  of  studies  enlarged. 

Fortunately  for  Nancy,  she  was  as  clever 
as  she  was  beautiful,  and  lessons  came  as 
easily  as  fun-making.  Moreover,  with  all 
her  love  of  activity,  she  was  devoted  to  read- 
ing. Any  time  a  good  book  could  beguile 
her  into  the  cozy  corner  by  the  fireplace. 
Many  lively  discussions  over  their  favorite 
authors  were  carried  on  among  Nancy,  her 
three  sisters,  and  their  mother,  who  was  the 
greatest  reader  of  them  all.  Yet  in  those 
festively  gay  months  after  Nancy's  sixteenth 
birthday  in  December,  studies  and  reading 
were  pushed  to  the  wall  by  a  consuming  in- 
terest in  party  dresses  and  party  happenings. 
During  that  winter  she  outdid  all  her  friends 
in  frivolity,  and  none  among  them  suspected 
the  growing  unrest  in  her  soul. 

With  the  coming  of  spring,  however,  the 
inner  restlessness  would  no  longer  be  hushed 
by  gaiety.    As  the  girl  came  indoors  on  that 

[5] 


Ann  of  Ava 


April  afternoon,  the  pensive  mood  drew  her 
irresistibly  within  its  control.  Her  eyes  grew 
big  and  dreamy  with  thought  as  she  stretched 
her  lithe  figure  comfortably  in  the  arm-chair 
by  the  window,  whence  she  looked  out  across 
the  green  fields  to  the  river  with  its  dark  blue 
onrush  of  current. 

Her  three  sisters,  Abby  and  Mary  and 
Rebecca,  had  not  yet  come  in  from  the 
academy;  and  her  father  and  mother  were 
busy  out  doors  and  in.  Nancy  ^was  left 
alone  with  her  thoughts  there  in  the  west 
room,  which  was  deluged  with  the  golden 
sunshine  of  late  afternoon  in  springtime. 
In  the  evening  there  was  to  be  a  meet- 
ing in  the  upper  parish,  and  she  fought 
against  her  desire  to  go.  Not  for  worlds 
would  she  have  her  schoolmates  know  that 
she  had  crept  into  a  back  seat  at  the  meet- 
ing the  other  night  and  had  suddenly  found 
her  face  wet  with  tears.  They  should  never 
suspect  that  something  was  tugging  at  her 
life  deep  down  and  making  her  most  uncom- 
fortable. She  had  been  recklessly  gay  of 
late  just  on  purpose  to  cover  up  her  real 
feelings.  More  than  once  her  friends  at 
[6] 


Ann  of  Ava 


school  had  predicted  that  something  dreadful 
would  happen  to  her  unless  she  sobered  down. 
In  the  "  very  heart  of  her  soul "  she  was 
sobering  down  at  a  tremendous  rate,  though 
they  surmised  it  not. 

As  the  girl  gazed  dreamy-eyed  and  wistful 
out  toward  the  river,  her  mother  lifted  the 
latch  of  the  door.  Quickly  Nancy  sprang  to 
her  feet  that  her  mother  might  not  notice  her 
unusual  thoughtfulness.  The  old  restlessness 
flashed  back  into  her  eyes,  and  her  easy 
bravado  into  her  spirit  and  bearing.  Mrs. 
Hasseltine  looked  searchingly  at  her  young- 
est daughter,  as  she  stood  before  her  with 
flushed  face  and  wind-tossed  curls,  her  slight 
figure  quivering  with  life.  Her  beauty  was 
like  that  of  the  April  day,  all  glow  and  color 
and  promise.  Mrs.  Hasseltine  drew  the 
girl  into  the  warm,  quiet  kitchen  where  the 
sunlight  and  firelight  mingled  their  gleam 
upon  the  low  rafters.  Together,  mother  and 
daughter  prepared  the  evening  meal.  The 
teakettle  swung  on  the  crane  humming  its 
steamy  song,  the  potatoes  snapped  in  the 
ashes,  and  the  smell  of  baked  things  came 
from  the  deep,  brick  oven.    As  they  worked. 


Ann  of  Ava 


they  talked  and  they  thought,  and  sometimes 
their  thoughts  strayed  far  from  their  speech. 
Nancy  was  still  struggling  with  those  phan- 
toms which  haunted  her  mind  and  whose 
presence  must  be  concealed.  Her  mother's 
heart  was  filled  with  hopes  and  fears  for  her 
youngest  girl,  who  was  so  gay  and  sweet  and 
impetuous,  like  the  tumultuous  river  in 
springtime. 

For  Nancy  the  April  days  sped  rapidly, 
and  joy  and  song  were  in  the  air,  even  though 
a  minor  tune  rang  insistently  in  her  heart. 
One  Sunday  evening,  Mr.  Burnham,  the 
principal  of  the  academy,  came  to  make  a 
friendly  call  upon  the  Hasseltine  family,  as 
was  his  frequent  habit.  He  was  a  young 
man,  a  Dartmouth  student,  who  had  taken 
charge  of  the  school  in  Bradford  the  year 
before.  There  was  something  manly  and 
earnest  about  him  which  ^on  the  respect  and 
liking  of  his  pupils  and  of  people  in  general. 
This  Sunday  evening,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Hasseltine  and  the  four  girls,  he  was  talk- 
ing in  very  straightforward  fashion.  Finally 
he  made  a  remark  which  expressed  Nancy's 
inner  mood  so  exactly  that  she  could  hardly 
[8] 


The  Hasseltuie  Home 


Ann  of  Ava 


conceal  her  embarrassment.  He  said  that 
sometimes  people  deliberately  covered  up 
their  real  feelings  because  they  were  afraid 
of  becoming  too  serious.  Nancy  slipped  out 
into  the  garden  under  the  fruit  trees  to 
wrestle  again  with  those  troublesome  thoughts 
which  would  not  let  her  alone. 

That  night  and  for  days  after,  she  thought 
and  thought  until  it  seemed  as  if  her  brain 
would  burst  with  thinking.  She  wondered 
if  the  Bible  would  help,  but  she  could  not 
understand  the  Bible  very  well.  God  seemed 
very  far  off  and  unapproachable.  What 
should  she  do?  She  was  too  unhappy  to 
pretend  gaiety  any  longer,  though  not  "  for 
the  whole  world,"  as  she  wrote  in  her  diary, 
would  she  have  her  schoolmates  know  that 
she  was  disturbed  by  thoughts  about  God. 

Frequently  she  shut  herself  in  her  room 
to  read  the  books  Mr.  Burnham  had  given 
her  and  to  try  to  pray.  God  still  seemed 
remote  and  stern  to  the  troubled  mind  of 
the  girl,  but  gradually  she  began  to  realize 
that  Jesus  Christ  was  real  and  human  and 
lovable.  He  could  understand  her  perfectly, 
and  there  was  no  fear  in  trusting  her  life 

[9] 


Ann  of  Ava 


to  One  who  really  knew  and  loved  without 
limit.  All  the  hero-worship  of  her  soul  went 
out  to  him  in  a  great  wave  of  loyalty.  His 
perfect  friendliness  revealed  God  in  a  new 
light  of  infinite  love  and  gentleness.  The 
heavy  weight  of  unhappiness  that  had  dragged 
upon  her  spirits  for  so  many  weeks  was  fully 
and  finally  lifted. 

Nancy  was  sixteen  when  she  became  a 
Christian,  and  sixteen  also  when  with  others 
of  her  school  friends  she  joined  the  little 
church  at  Bradford.  About  the  same  time 
her  father  and  mother  became  church-mem- 
bers. It  was  through  Nancy,  his  favorite 
daughter,  that  John  Hasseltine  acknowledged 
himself  a  Christian.  One  summer  evening 
the  girl  had  knelt  in  her  open  window  and 
the  tears  came  as  they  often  did  in  those 
days.  Her  father  was  crossing  the  field  to- 
ward the  house  when  he  looked  up  and  saw 
Nancy  in  all  her  loveliness  kneeling  and 
weeping.  She  was  his  idol,  and  as  he  looked 
at  her  he  said  to  himself,  "  If  my  child,  so 
sweet  and  innocent,  weeps  when  she  comes 
to  God  in  prayer,  what  will  become  of  me?" 
Whereupon  he  walked  out  on  his  farm,  threw 
£10] 


Ann  of  Ava 


himself  down  under  an  oak  tree  and  prayed. 
From  that  night  he  was  willing  to  be  known 
as  a  Christian  man. 

During  the  lovely  summer  days  of  the 
year  1806,  when  school  was  still  in  session, 
nearly  all  the  boys  and  girls  in  Bradford 
Academy  thought  hard  about  serious  things. 
As  a  result,  many  of  them  became  Christians. 
The  young  principal,  Mr.  Burnham,  was  an 
inspiration  to  them  all.  For  a  time,  classes 
were  actually  suspended  that  teacher  and 
pupils  might  talk  and  pray  together  and 
consider  diligently  what  each  might  do  to 
help  bring  the  world  to  Jesus  Christ. 

During  those  same  midsummer  days,  an- 
other group  of  students  in  another  New 
England  town  was  facing  the  same  tremen- 
dous question  and  facing  it  with  even  greater 
definiteness  of  purpose.  Through  the  "  di- 
vinity that  shapes  our  ends,"  those  forces  at 
work  simultaneously  at  Bradford  Academy 
and  Williams  College  were  to  blend  some  day 
into  one  great  student  movement  to  reach 
around  the  world. 

Among  those  whose  lives  were  touched  by 
the  wonderful  influence  of  Bradford  Acad- 

[11] 


Ann  of  Ava 


emy  in  those  early  days  was  a  slender,  flower- 
like  girl  named  Harriet  Atwood.  She  was 
one  of  the  younger  girls  who  had  come  the 
year  before,  when  twelve  years  old,  from 
her  home  across  the  river  in  Haverhill.  In 
the  sweet,  sunshiny  afternoons  of  July  and 
August,  Harriet  and  Nancy  joined  their 
schoolmates  in  lazy  strolls  down  the  grassy 
path  which  led  from  the  academy  into  the 
depths  of  the  wood.  Red  berries,  trailing 
vines,  and  deep-scented  ferns  grew  in  the 
shade  of  the  forest  trees.  Upon  a  mossy 
bank  the  boys  and  girls  sat  and  talked,  with 
all  the  golden  enthusiasm  of  youth,  of  the 
years  to  come,  and  of  the  exploits  they  would 
do  when  they  were  men  and  women  grown. 
With  her  brown  eyes  sparkling  and  her  voice 
quivering  with  eagerness,  Nancy  spoke  of 
service  and  heroism.  Little  Harriet,  large- 
eyed  and  serious,  was  already  dreaming  of 
sacrifice.  But  the  long  simimer  days  and 
the  "  heart  of  the  ancient  wood  "  brought  no 
revealing  hint  of  those  thrilling  experiences 
which  were  to  come  even  a  few  years  hence 
into  the  lives  of  Harriet  Atwood  and  Nancy 
Hasseltine. 
[12] 


II 


THE  SHADOW  OF  COMING 
EVENTS 


FOUR  years  passed,  and  summer  days 
came  again  to  the  valley  of  the 
JNIerrimac.  During  the  last  week  of 
June  a  strange  excitement  stirred  the  little 
village  of  Bradford,  from  the  covered  bridge 
over  the  river  unto  the  farthest  farm  on  the 
"  Boston  Road."  In  many  a  house  busy 
prei)arations  were  being  made  for  dinner  and 
supper  parties  of  varying  size.  At  noon  and 
sunset  time  guests  from  near  and  far  would 
gather  in  the  hospitable  homes  of  Bradford 
for  the  ample  repasts  for  which  New  Eng- 
land has  always  been  famous. 

With  all  the  bustle  and  activity,  a  new 
and  thrilling  interest  occupied  the  minds  of 
the  people.  In  the  low-raftered  kitchens  and 
out  upon  the  green  roadsides  lively  discussion 
was  carried  on  among  young  and  old  alike. 
The  cause  of  this  unwonted  excitement  could 
have  been  traced  to  the  little  parish  meeting- 
house which  stood  at  the  junction  of  the  two 

[13] 


Ann  of  Ava 


roads,  across  the  way  from  the  Kimball 
Tavern.  So  simple  was  it  that  no  chimney 
or  steeple  dignified  its  exterior,  yet  beneath 
its  humble  gable  roof  a  great,  historic  event 
was  even  now  being  enacted.  In  the  boxed 
pews  sat  the  black-robed  ministers  from  the 
churches  of  Massachusetts  who  had  come  to 
Bradford  for  three  long  June  days  of  de- 
liberation concerning  the  problems  of  the 
New  England  parish.  On  horseback,  by 
chaise  and  by  stage-coach  they  had  jour- 
neyed, these  "  Church  fathers,"  as  they  were 
respectfully  called. 

On  the  second  day  profound  astonishment 
seemed  to  take  possession  of  the  twenty- 
eight  clergymen  in  the  pews  and  to  lay  hold 
also  upon  the  townspeople  who  had  gathered 
in  the  galleries  around  the  three  sides.  The 
air  was  electric  with  interest.  Down  near  the 
front  sat  four  young  men  upon  whom  all 
eyes  were  fastened.  They  were  young  col- 
lege men  now  in  Andover  Theological  Semi- 
nary. Early  that  morning  they  had  walked 
the  ten  miles  to  Bradford  in  order  to  present 
to  the  Massachusetts  muiisters  a  momentous 
proposition.  Their  written  petition  had  just 
[14] 


Ann  of  Ava 


been  laid  upon  the  communion  table,  after 
having  been  read  in  the  clear,  deep  voice  of 
Adoniram  Judson,  the  spokesman  of  the 
group.  A  responsive  thrill  stirred  the  people 
as  the  young  man  took  his  seat.  It  was  a 
bold  project  he  had  advocated,  seeming 
scarcely  reasonable,  yet  the  conviction  of  the 
four  students  was  contagious. 

In  the  summer  of  1806  this  "  bold  project " 
had  first  crystallized  into  a  serious  purpose. 
Almost  simultaneously  with  the  religious 
awakening  at  Bradford  Academy,  five  Chris- 
tian students  in  Williams  College  had  framed 
a  far-reaching  resolution.  One  hot  day  in 
August  they  went,  according  to  habit,  into 
a  maple  grove  to  pray  together.  The  sky 
blackened  with  the  approach  of  a  thunder- 
shower,  and  they  hastened  to  a  near-by  hay- 
stack for  protection.  There  in  the  storm 
they  talked  about  the  vast  old  continent  of 
Asia,  concerning  which  they  had  read  and 
studied.  They  told  tales  of  the  ignorance 
and  wretchedness  of  its  people,  whereupon 
Samuel  Mills  for  the  first  time  unfolded  his 
darling  scheme  of  sending  missionaries  to 
those  heathen  lands,   perhaps   even  offering 

[15] 


Ann  of  Ava 


their  own  lives  for  the  great  service.  He 
grew  more  and  more  enthusiastic  as  he  talked, 
until  finally  he  exclaimed  with  a  vehemence 
none  of  them  ever  forgot,  "  We  can  do  it  if 
we  will!"  Under  his  leadership  a  secret  so- 
ciety called  the  "  Brethren "  was  organized 
in  Williams  College,  and  those  initiated 
united  in  the  purpose  to  go  themselves  as 
missionaries  to  the  non- Christian  world.  Af- 
ter graduation,  some  of  the  "  Brethren,"  in- 
cluding Samuel  Mills,  went  to  Andover 
Seminary  to  study  for  the  ministry.  There 
they  found  kindred  spirits  in  Samuel  Newell 
from  Union  College,  Samuel  Xott  from  Har- 
vard, and  Adoniram  Judson  from  Brown 
Universit}^  all  of  whom  joined  the  order  of 
the  "  Brethren." 

Everywhere  he  went  Adoniram  Judson 
became  a  recognized  leader.  He  was  bril- 
liant, forceful,  imaginative,  and  an  indomi- 
table worker.  At  Brown  he  had  led  his 
class,  and  at  Andover  he  had  received  an 
offer  dazzling  to  the  ambition  of  a  young 
theologue.  He  had  been  invited  to  become 
associate  pastor  of  the  largest  cliurch  in 
Boston  and  in  all  New  England  as  well.  But 
[16] 


Ann  of  Ava 


no,  his  aspiration  reached  far  beyond  Boston 
and  the  bounds  of  his  country,  even  to  the 
ancient  East,  whither  no  missionary  from 
America  had  yet  been  sent.  Thither  he  would 
go,  and  to  a  people  who  had  never  heard  the 
name  of  Christ  he  would  proclaim  the  Mas- 
ter whom  he  was  learning  to  serve  with 
passionate  loyaltj^ 

In  the  Bradford  meeting-house  this  June 
day  in  1810,  Adoniram  Judson  with  the 
three  "  Samuels,"  his  companions,  boldly 
asked  to  be  sent  by  the  churches  of  JNIassa- 
chusetts  on  a  mission  to  the  heathen  world! 
Never  yet  had  a  missionary  gone  from 
America  to  those  countries  beyond  the  seas, 
months  and  months  away.  American  sailors 
who  had  touched  the  coasts  of  India,  Burma, 
and  Africa  brought  home  tales  of  the  awful 
degradation  and  savagery  of  the  inhabitants. 
Most  people  thought  it  was  an  insane  notion 
to  dream  of  converting  them  to  the  Christian 
religion. 

Conflicting  ideas  battled  in  the  minds  of 
the  ministers.  Upon  first,  and  even  second, 
thought  the  undertaknig  sounded  "  wild  and 
romantic";  yet  upon  the  faces  of  the  young 

[17] 


Ann  of  Ava 


men  they  read  clear-eyed  conviction.  They 
were  confident  that  the  voice  of  God  had 
spoken.  "  We  would  better  not  try  to  stop 
God,"  said  one  of  the  ministers.  The  as- 
sembly waited,  hushed  and  uncertain,  listen- 
ing intently,  as  each  of  the  young  men  told 
why  he  believed  it  his  duty  to  give  up  home 
and  friends  and  go  on  the  long,  perilous  jour- 
ney to  the  heathen  world.  As  in  modern 
business  meetings,  decision  was  referred  to 
a  committee  of  three  who  were  to  report  on 
the  morrow. 

On  Friday,  the  29th  of  June,  the  commit- 
tee appeared  before  the  council  and  an- 
nounced its  verdict.  They  recommended  that 
the  purpose  of  the  young  men  be  approved, 
and,  furthermore,  that  a  foreign  missionary 
board  be  organized  in  America  to  insure  the 
support  of  the  young  volunteers  and  those 
who  should  follow  their  example.  They  even 
suggested  its  name,  a  long  unwieldy  one, 
the  "  American  Board  of  Commissioners  for 
Foreign  Missions."  Without  a  protest  the 
report  was  adopted.  It  was  a  breathless  mo- 
ment for  the  four  young  men,  who  had  hardly 
dared  to  dream  such  a  victory  possible. 
[18] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Every  one  present  recognized  that  it  was 
their  tremendous  earnestness  which  had  won 
the  day. 

The  session  was  dismissed  for  noon  inter- 
mission. A  group  of  ministers,  Adoniram 
Judson  in  their  midst,  strolled  up  the  road 
past  the  academy  to  Deacon  Hasseltine's 
house,  where  they  were  invited  to  dine.  In 
the  west  room  the  table  had  been  laid  for 
the  noon  dinner-party.  The  Hasseltines  had 
a  widespread  reputation  for  hospitality  which 
the  tempting  array  of  pies  and  cakes  and 
other  eatables  amply  justified. 

To  Xancy,  the  youngest  daughter  of  the 
household,  fell  the  task  of  serving  her  father's 
guests.  As  she  watched  them  coming  up  the 
path  from  the  gate,  her  flashing  eyes  revealed 
her  interest  in  the  day's  unusual  event.  At 
twenty  she  was  even  more  beautiful  than  the 
girl  of  sixteen,  for  a  sweet  thoughtfulness 
tempered  the  old  laughing  gaiety  of  eyes  and 
mouth.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed  with  the 
heat  and  excitement  of  the  day,  her  soft  curls 
clustered  about  her  fair  neck.  Of  all  the 
varied  beauty  of  the  day  in  June  nothing 
was  so  wondrous  fair  as  the  girl  Nancy. 

[19J 


Ann  of  Ava 


As  the  guests  entered  the  room  a  pair  of 
keen,  fearless  brown  eyes  met  hers,  and  their 
gaze  lingered  as  if  spellbound.  From  the 
moment  Adoniram  Judson  and  Nancy  Has- 
seltine  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  a  great 
and  wonderful  experience  was  born  in  the 
lives  of  both. 

During  the  meal,  Adoniram  Judson,  noted 
for  his  ready  wit  and  social  grace,  was  un- 
accountably silent.  For  some  reason  he 
seemed  strangely  preoccupied  with  his  plate. 
Nancy,  who  had  heard  of  his  eloquent  speech, 
his  daring  proclamation  of  his  beliefs,  mar- 
veled at  his  stubborn  silence.  As  she  cut  the 
pies  on  the  broad  window-sill  she  cast  a 
furtive  glance  at  the  young  man  who  was 
the  hero  of  the  hour,  but  who  could  not  be 
persuaded  to  talk.  Little  did  she  dream 
that  his  thoughts  were  forcibly  diverted  from 
the  absorbing  theme  which  his  companions 
still  discussed,  and  that  deep  down  in  his 
mind  he  was  composing  a  sonnet  in  honor  of 
the  loveliest  girl  he  had  ever  seen. 


[20] 


Ill 


GIRL  PIONEERS 

ONE  day,  about  a  month  after  the 
eventful  gathering  in  the  meeting- 
house, the  Boston  stage-coach 
brought  to  Bradford  a  certain  small  piece  of 
mail  destined  to  become  of  large  importance 
in  the  lives  of  two  people.  It  was  a  letter 
carefully  sealed  with  wax  and  in  fine,  firm 
handwriting,  addressed  to  Miss  Nancy  Has- 
seltine.  As  the  girl  broke  the  seal  joy  and 
fear  mingled  for  one  fleeting  instant  upon  her 
face. 

For  many  days  the  letter  lay  unanswered, 
but  Nancy  went  about  the  house  and  along 
the  grassy  highways  of  Bradford  with  the 
light  of  a  great  wonder  shining  in  her  eyes. 
Persistently,  however,  she  feigned  indiffer- 
ence and  deliberately  postponed  reply  to  the 
letter.  Finally,  her  sister,  exasperated  by  her 
procrastination,  said  to  her,  "  Have  you  an- 
swered that  letter  of  Mr.  Judson's?  "  "  No," 
retorted  Nancy  with  a  toss  of  her  brown 
curls.  "  Then  if  you  don't,  I  shall,"  re- 
sponded the  older  sister. 

[21] 


Ann  of  Ava 


The  threat  had  the  desired  effect,  and  in 
course  of  time  a  letter  written  and  sealed  by 
Nancy  Hasseltine  reached  Adoniram  Judson 
at  Phillips  Hall,  Andover.  That  letter 
brought  an  interesting  challenge  to  the  young 
man  who  all  his  life  had  pushed  his  way 
through  every  obstacle  to  the  goal  of  his 
ambition.  In  her  girlish  perversity  and  in 
her  real  perplexity,  Nancy  had  written  a 
cool,  discouraging  reply  to  his  eager  letter. 
Adoniram  Judson  perceived  her  dilemma,  for 
with  his  fine  sense  of  honor  he  realized  keenly 
the  tremendous  sacrifice  he  was  demanding  of 
the  girl  he  loved  in  asking  her  to  become  his 
wife. 

He  might  have  offered  her  a  comfortable 
home  in  the  city  of  Boston  as  the  wife  of  one 
of  its  leading  clergymen.  There  her  beauty 
and  intelligence  would  have  shone  in  con- 
spicuous brightness.  Instead,  he  was  invit- 
ing her  to  share  the  uncertain  lot  of  the  first 
missionary  from  America  to  the  mysterious 
regions  of  southern  Asia.  It  was  perfectly 
reasonable  to  expect  suffering  and  privation, 
even  persecution  and  death.  Yet  he  believed 
Ann  Hasseltine  was  capable  of  just  that  high 
[22] 


Ann  of  Ava 


heroism  which  such  a  hfe  demanded.  That 
glad  belief  drew  his  steps  confidently  to- 
ward Bradford  during  those  wonderful  sum- 
mer days  which  were  bringing  deep  heart- 
searchings  to  the  young  man  and  woman. 

On  her  part,  Nancy  was  struggling  with  a 
question  which  no  woman  in  America  had 
yet  been  called  upon  to  face.  Should  she 
marry  the  man  who  was  consuming  her 
thoughts  and  go  away  from  her  father's 
house  to  a  distant  land  probably  never  to 
return?  "  Xo,"  said  nearly  every  one  whose 
advice  was  sought,  or  who  proffered  an  opin- 
ion unasked.  "  It  is  altogether  preposterous 
for  a  woman  to  consider  such  a  rash  under- 
taking." "  It  is  utterly  improper,"  said  one; 
"  It  is  wild  and  romantic,"  said  another.  Mr. 
Kimball,  the  father  of  one  of  Nancy's  school 
friends,  declared  that  he  would  tie  his  daugh- 
ter to  the  bedpost  before  he  would  let  her  go. 
But  the  girl  Nancy,  with  her  old  independ- 
ent spirit  deepened  by  a  new  sense  of  duty, 
followed  the  call  of  God,  regardless  of  im- 
sympathetic  comments. 

There  were  a  few  people  who  stood  by  her 
and   encouraged    her   to    dare    all    and   go. 

[JI8] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Among  them  was  her  sister  Abigail,  that 
tall,  self-possessed  girl  who  afterwards  be- 
came principal  of  Bradford  Academy  and 
retained  that  position  for  forty  years.  Abby 
and  Nancy  were  great  chums,  understanding 
each  other  easily,  even  though  they  were  quite 
unlike  in  temperament,  perhaps  because  of 
that  very  fact.  Abigail  was  teaching  school 
in  Beverly  and  late  in  the  summer  her  young 
sister  went  to  visit  her.  While  there  Nancy 
wrote  the  following  letter,  in  the  rather  pon- 
derous English  used  in  her  time,  to  her  old 
school  friend,  Lydia,  who  lived  near  her  in 
Bradford: 

Beverly,  September  8,  1810. 
"  I  have  ever  made  you  a  confidant.  I 
will  still  confide  in  you  and  beg  for  your 
prayers  that  I  may  be  directed  in  regard  to 
the  subject  which  I  shall  communicate.  I 
feel  willing,  and  expect,  if  nothing  in  provi- 
dence prevents,  to  spend  my  days  in  this 
world  in  heathen  lands.  Yes,  Lydia,  I  have 
about  come  to  the  determination  to  give  up 
all  my  comforts  and  enjoyments  here,  sacri- 
fice my  affection  to  relatives  and  friends,  and 
[24] 


Harriet  Newell 


Ann  of  Ava 


go  where  God,  iii  his  providence,  shall  see 
fit  to  place  me.  My  determinations  are  not 
hasty  or  formed  without  viewing  the  dangers, 
trials,  and  hardships  attendant  on  a  mission- 
ary life.  Nor  were  my  determinations  formed 
in  consequence  of  an  attachment  to  an  earthly 
object;  but  with  a  sense  of  my  obligation  to 
God,  and  with  a  full  conviction  of  its  being 
a  call  of  providence,  and  consequently  my 
duty.  INIy  feelings  have  been  exquisite  in 
regard  to  the  subject.  Now  my  mind  is 
settled  and  composed,  and  is  willing  to  leave 
the  event  with  God — none  can  support  one 
under  trials  and  afflictions  but  he.  In  him 
alone  I  feel  a  disposition  to  confide." 

There  was  another  girl  friend  of  the  old 
academy  days  who  must  be  told  the  great 
news  of  her  engagement  and  missionary  pur- 
pose. So,  one  October  morning  after  her 
return  to  Bradford,  Nancy  went  through 
the  covered  bridge  which  led  across  the  INIer- 
rimac  into  Haverhill,  up  the  hill  to  the  town 
square  and  on  to  the  house  of  Harriet  At- 
wood.  Harriet  had  just  passed  her  seven- 
teenth birthday,  and  Nancy  would  be  twenty- 

[25] 


Ann  of  Ava 


one  in  December.  To  her  little  friend  Nancy 
confided  her  expectation  of  becoming  the 
wife  of  a  missionary  to  India.  Harriet's  big, 
brown  eyes  grew  misty  with  wonder  and  sym- 
pathy. In  her  diary  that  night  she  wrote 
these  words  in  a  style  which  resembled 
Nancy's : 

"  How  did  this  news  affect  my  heart !  Is 
she  willing  to  do  all  this  for  God;  and  shall 
I  refuse  to  lend  my  little  aid  in  a  land  where 
divine  revelation  has  shed  its  clearest  rays? 
I  have  felt  more  for  the  salvation  of  the 
heathen  this  day  than  I  recollect  to  have  felt 
through  my  whole  past  life.  .  .  .  What  can 
I  do,  that  the  light  of  the  gospel  may  shine 
upon  them?  They  are  perishing  for  lack  of 
knowledge,  while  I  enjoy  the  glorious  privi- 
leges of  a  Christian  land.  Great  God  direct 
me!  Oh,  make  me  in  some  way  beneficial  to 
their  immortal  souls !  " 

In  less  than  a  month  that  same  little  diary 
of  Harriet's  bore  this  entry: 

"  Sleep  has  fled  from  me  and  my  soul  is 
enveloped  in  a  dark  cloud  of  troubles!     Oh 
[«6] 


Ann  of  Ava 


that  God  would  direct  me;  that  he  would 
plainly  mark  out  the  path  of  duty  and  let 
me  not  depart  from  it." 

In  that  short  interim,  Samuel  Newell,  one 
of  the  missionary  volunteers,  had  come  into 
Harriet's  life;  and  by  night  and  by  day  the 
thoughts  of  the  girl  were  dream-haunted. 

The  winter  passed  and  the  spring  days 
came  again.  One  April  evening  while  Har- 
riet was  visiting  her  sister  in  Charlestown, 
she  came  back  from  Boston  to  find — a  letter  I 
Just  a  slip  of  paper  with  a  few  strokes  of  the 
pen  upon  it,  but  what  agitation  that  can  pro- 
duce in  a  girl's  inner  being!  She  broke  the 
seal  and  read  the  words  and  the  name  she 
had  expected,  yes,  dreaded  to  see.  To  Har- 
riet, as  to  Nancy,  had  come  the  great  testing 
of  love  and  loyalty. 

Through  the  tears  which  dimmed  her  eyes 
Harriet  wrote  a  few  days  later  in  her  diary: 

"  The  important  decision  is  not  yet  made. 
I  am  still  wavering.  I  long  to  see  and  con- 
verse with  my  dear  mother!  So  delicate  is 
my  situation  that  I  dare  not  unbosom  my 
heart  to  a  single  person.    What  shall  I  do? 

[27] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Could  tears  direct  me  in  the  path  of  duty, 
surely  I  should  be  directed — ]My  heart 
aches; — I  know  not  what  to  do! — "  Guide 
me,  O  Thou  great  Jehovah."  I  shall  go 
home  on  Tuesday.  Perhaps  my  dear  mother 
will  immediately  say:  Harriet  shall  never  go. 
Well,  if  this  should  be  the  case  my  duty 
would  be  plain.  I  cannot  act  contrary  to 
the  advice  and  express  commands  of  a  pious 
mother." 

When  Tuesday  came,  Harriet  mounted 
the  stage-coach  which  traveled  between  Bos- 
ton and  Haverhill  and  came  again  to  her 
mother's  house  in  the  town  square.  Before 
crossing  the  Merrimac  the  stage  lumbered 
through  Bradford  along  the  "  Boston  Road," 
past  the  academy  and  the  Hasseltine  house. 
The  youngest  and  fairest  daughter  of  that 
Bradford  household  and  the  slender,  brown- 
eyed  girl  of  Haverhill  were  destined  not 
many  months  hence  to  leave  the  sunny  farms 
of  New  England,  even  the  dear  home  people 
around  the  family  hearth  and  go  out  across 
two  oceans  to  the  mysterious  land  of  southern 
Asia  and  spend  their  lives  among  its  pagan 
people. 
[28] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Harriet  found  her  mother  already  pre- 
pared for  the  solemn  question  which  was  in- 
vading their  home.  In  his  stress  of  mind, 
Samuel  Newell  had  made  a  confidant  of 
Nancy  Hasseltine,  and  she  had  been  the 
bearer  of  his  troubled  request  to  Harriet's 
mother.  With  tears  in  her  eyes  that  loyal 
Christian  woman  replied,  *'  I  dare  not,  I 
cannot  speak  against  it."  Thus,  when  Har- 
riet came  home  that  April  day,  JNIrs.  Atwood 
was  ready  to  trust  the  great  decision  to  her 
daughter's  conscience.  Since  her  father's 
death,  three  years  before,  Harriet  had  clung 
with  increasing  affection  to  her  mother.  Now, 
a  wonderful,  new  love  was  surging  up  in  her 
life,  transforming  her  from  a  girl  into  a 
woman  and  supplying  her  with  purpose  ir- 
resistible. Samuel  Newell  had  drav/n  out  the 
deepest  love  of  her  maiden  heart.  Yet  not 
alone  for  the  sake  of  her  lover  did  she  decide 
upon  the  difficult  life  of  a  missionary,  but 
because  she  was  determined  down  to  the 
depths  of  her  pure  soul  to  go  wherever  God 
should  lead  her. 

In  June,  Harriet  and  Samuel  were  com- 
pelled to  part  for  nine  long  months  as  the 

[29] 


Ann  of  Ava 


young  man  was  going  to  Philadelphia  to  join 
his  friend  Gordon  Hall  in  the  study  of 
physics  and  medicine  by  way  of  further 
preparation  for  their  missionary  work.  It 
was  a  lonely  heart  that  was  left  behind  in  the 
house  in  Haverhill.  Nancy  Hasseltine  would 
have  been  a  great  comfort,  but  Nancy  was 
away  on  a  long  visit  in  Salem. 

Early  in  the  winter  Nancy  had  said  good- 
by  to  Adoniram  Judson  as  he  had  set  forth 
on  a  far  longer  journey  than  the  stage  route 
to  Philadelphia.  He  had  sailed  on  the  ship 
Packet  for  England,  having  been  sent  to 
London  by  the  directors  of  the  new  American 
missionary  society  to  confer  with  the  older 
English  society  as  to  some  possible  combina- 
tion between  the  two  organizations. 

In  those  days  a  voyage  to  Europe  was  a 
snail-like  process  consuming  two  months  of 
time.  Letters  traveled  even  more  slowly,  so 
that  Adoniram  Judson  could  well-nigh  come 
again  to  the  valley  of  the  JSIerrimac  before 
Nancy  would  hear  of  his  arrival  on  the 
English  shore.  Hence  it  was  many  weeks 
before  the  news  reached  Bradford  of  the 
exciting  adventures  which  befell  the  young 
[30] 


Ann  of  Ava 


man  on  his  trip  across  the  Atlantic.  His 
ship  was  captured  by  a  French  privateer  and 
he  was  taken  prisoner  to  Bayonne,  France. 
For  six  weeks  he  was  detained  there,  although 
early  in  his  captivity  he  had  been  released 
from  prison  on  parole  and  allowed  to  board 
in  an  American  family  in  the  city.  It  was 
the  6th  of  IVIay  before  he  reached  London, 
and  in  June,  his  business  completed,  he  sailed 
on  the  ship  Augustus  for  New  York.  The 
last  of  August  brought  him  to  his  father's 
home  in  Plymouth  and  to  that  other  home 
on  the  banks  of  the  river  in  Bradford. 

The  return  of  Adoniram  Judson  with  his 
message  from  England  was  the  signal  for 
another  meeting  of  the  men  who  had  gathered 
in  the  Bradford  church  a  year  and  more  ago. 
On  the  18th  of  September,  the  "Church 
fathers,"  now  the  officers  and  members  of 
the  new  missionary  society,  assembled  in  the 
town  of  Worcester,  Massachusetts.  Ado- 
niram Judson,  slight  of  build,  even  bojdsh 
in  appearance,  but  with  piercingly  bright 
eyes  and  resonant  voice,  stood  forth  and 
announced  his  decision.  A  joint  missionary 
enterprise    between    England    and    America 

[31] 


Ann  of  Ava 


had  been  disapproved  by  the  leaders  in  Lon- 
don, but  the  London  Missionary  Society  was 
wiUing  to  adopt  the  American  vohmteers  as 
its  missionaries  and  promptly  send  them 
forth  to  their  distant  posts  of  service.  Con- 
sequently,— and  here  Adoniram  Judson  ex- 
hibited his  tremendous  power  of  determina- 
tion,— if  the  American  society  refused  his 
appointment,  he  would  become  a  missionary 
of  the  English  organi7ation.  Samuel  Nott 
announced  a  similar  resolve. 

The  unyielding  purpose  of  the  young  men 
proved  the  needed  spur  to  action  and  the 
American  Board  of  Commissioners  for  For- 
eign Missions  then  and  there  appointed  its 
first  missionaries,  Adoniram  Judson,  Samuel 
Newell,  Samuel  Nott,  and  Gordon  Hall. 
For  a  second  time  victory  was  scored  by 
means  of  the  bold  consecration  of  the  mis- 
sionary volunteers. 

The  autumn  days  deepened  into  winter; 
and  hope  and  dread  stirred  the  lives  of  Nancy 
and  Harriet,  Adoniram  and  Samuel.  The 
time  of  their  departure  was  drawing  nigh. 
In  January  an  exciting  message  came  from 
Samuel  Newell  and  Gordon  Hall  in  Phila- 
[32] 


Adoniram  Judson 


Ann  of  Ava 


delphia.  In  two  weeks  the  ship  Harmony 
was  to  sail  from  that  city  to  Calcutta  and  the 
government  would  permit  missionaries  to  take 
passage.  A  second  war  with  England  was 
threatening,  and  if  they  did  not  sail  at  once 
ports  might  be  blockaded  and  departure  long 
deferred. 

Should  they  go?  It  was  a  terrific  question 
which  pressed  for  immediate  answer  upon 
the  officers  of  the  young  mission  board.  Only 
a  small  sum  of  money  was  in  the  treasury, 
not  enough  to  pay  the  passage  fees.  Was 
it  reasonable  to  expect  that  the  actual  de- 
parture of  missionaries  for  a  heathen  country 
would  attract  attention  and  awaken  sym- 
pathy to  such  an  extent  that  gifts  of  money 
would  be  forthcoming?  Should  they  boldly 
venture  and  bravely  trust?  Long  and  anx- 
iously they  prayed  and  deliberated,  seeking 
to  discern  the  right.  At  last  the  vote  was 
cast,  and  the  verdict  was — the  missionaries 
shall  go! 

To  the  Hasseltine  and  Atwood  homes  came 
the  word  that  Nancy  and  Harriet  must  soon 
take  their  marriage  vows  and  say  farewell, 
perhaps  forever,  to  their  childhood  homes. 

[33] 


Ann  of  Ava 


The  piercing  winds  of  a  New  England 
winter  swept  through  the  valley  of  the  Mer- 
rimac  and  along  the  snowy  highways  of 
Bradford,  when,  on  the  5th  of  February,  a 
group  of  people  gathered  in  the  west  room 
of  the  Hasseltine  house.  A  strange  hush 
fell  upon  the  little  company,  and  tears  were 
close  to  the  eyes  of  every  guest.  Harriet 
Atwood  sat  by  the  side  of  Samuel  Newell, 
her  betrothed,  a  sad  seriousness  resting 
upon  her.  But  the  center  of  interest 
was  the  radiant,  beautiful  face  of  Nancy 
Hasseltine  as  she  gave  her  hand  and  heart 
in  marriage  to  the  missionary,  Adoniram  Jud- 
son,  whom,  less  than  two  years  before,  she 
had  first  met  in  this  very  room.  Her  brave, 
unfaltering  eyes  shone  with  a  wonderful  light 
as  Pastor  Allen  gave  the  two  young  people 
his  blessing,  called  them  "  his  dear  children," 
and  spoke  lovingly  of  the  labors  they  were  to 
perform. 

From  that  night  the  girl  Nancy,  popular, 
clever,  beautiful,  became  the  woman  resource- 
ful and  heroic,  who  was  destined  to  be  known 
in  three  continents  as  Ann  Hasseltine  Jud- 
son,  the  heroine  of  Ava, 
[34] 


IV 
A  LONG  GOOD-BY 


ALTHOUGH  it  was  a  bitterly  cold 
Z_k  day  in  February  the  streets  of  Salem 
•^  JL-were  well  filled  with  people.  In- 
voluntarily on  such  a  day  one  would  hover 
near  the  cheery  kitchen  fireplace  with  its 
savory  warmth.  Instead,  the  people  of  this 
seacoast  town  seemed  to  be  drawn  forth,  as 
by  the  spell  of  a  Hamelin  piper,  toward  one 
enchanted  spot,  the  white  meeting-house 
known  as  Tabernacle  Church.  From  neigh- 
boring towns  sleighs  brought  bundled,  shiver- 
ing folk  along  the  snowy  roads  to  Salem. 
From  Andover,  a  delegation  of  students, 
boys  and  young  men,  walked  the  entire  six- 
teen miles  in  the  freezing  cold  of  early  morn- 
ing, returning  on  foot  late  in  the  afternoon. 
But  cold  and  weariness  were  speedily  for- 
gotten in  the  great  and  absorbing  interest 
which  centered  in  the  day's  events  in  Taber- 
nacle Church. 

On  this  sixth  day  of  February,  1812,  five 
young  men  were  to  be  ordained  as  Christian 

[86] 


Ann  of  Ava 


ministers  and  commissioned  by  the  Church 
of  America  as  its  first  missionaries  to  a 
heathen  country.  In  imagination  people  pic- 
tured the  separation  from  home,  the  long 
voyage  across  the  gray,  wintry  ocean,  and 
the  possible  hostility  and  persecution  of  the 
savage  inhabitants  of  those  distant  regions. 
Every  heart  felt  a  throb  of  sympathy  with 
those  dauntless  young  people  who  had  al- 
ready left  their  homes  and  were  soon  to  de- 
part from  their  native  land  perhaps  forever. 
Near  the  front  of  the  church,  before  the 
distinguished  clergymen  from  Boston,  Salem, 
and  other  towns,  knelt  five  volunteers  for 
missionary  service,  Adoniram  Judson,  Samuel 
Newell,  Samuel  Nott,  Gordon  Hall,  and  a 
new  recruit,  Luther  Rice.  A  hand  of  fatherly 
blessing  was  laid  upon  each  youthful  head 
bowed  in  willing  consecration  to  God  and 
obedience  to  his  call.  Kneeling  there  before 
the  elder  ministers,  these  young  men  in  their 
purity  and  earnestness  resembled  Sir  Gala- 
had as  he  knelt  before  his  superior  knight, 
Sir  Launcelot,  to  receive  the  "  high  order 
of  knighthood."  For  a  more  perilous  quest 
than  that  of  Sir  Galahad  for  the  Holy  Grail, 
[36] 


Ann  of  Ava 


they  vowed  their  allegiance  as  knights  of  the 
great  King  whose  Round  Table  is  in  very 
truth  the  whole,  round  world. 

During  the  dedication  service  many  eyes 
turned  from  the  young  missionaries  to  linger 
lovingly  upon  a  girlish  figure  kneeling  rever- 
ently by  the  side  of  a  boxed  pew  near  the 
front.  A  scoop  bonnet,  the  fashion  of  the 
day,  covered  her  brown  curls  and  partly 
shielded  the  brave,  beautiful  face  of  Mrs. 
Adoniram  Judson,  the  bride  of  a  single  day. 
On  her  long  visit  in  Salem,  Nancy  Hassel- 
tine  had  become  well  known  in  town.  More- 
over, in  her  school-days,  stories  of  her  gaiety 
and  beauty  had  drifted  through  the  country- 
side,— stories  which  reached  a  high  climax 
in  the  announcement  of  her  decision  to  go  as 
a  foreign  missionary, — an  unprecedented  ca- 
reer for  an  American  woman.  A  solemn  joy 
seemed  to  radiate  through  her  kneeling  figure 
during  the  service  which  sacredly  sealed  her 
marriage  vows. 

Another  girlish  face  tugged  hard*  at  the 
heartstrings  of  the  people.  It  was  that  of 
Harriet  Atwood,  the  young  woman  who 
witliin  a  few  days  would  become  the  bride 

[37] 


Ann  of  Ava 


of  Samuel  Xewell  and  go  with  him  across 
the  great  seas  to  a  new  home  in  the  far 
East.  She  was  a  fragile  flower  of  girlhood, 
apparently  unfitted  for  storm  and  tempest; 
but  those  who  looked  into  the  depths  of  her 
sad,  brown  eyes  read  there  the  indomitable 
purpose  dwelling  in  her  frail  body. 

At  the  close  of  that  memorable  day,  Sam- 
uel Nott,  Gordon  Hall,  and  Luther  Rice 
took  their  departure  for  Philadelphia,  expect- 
ing to  sail  in  a  few  days  on  the  Harmony 
for  Calcutta.^  The  others  lingered  in  Beverly 
and  Salem,  waiting  for  wind  and  tide  to 
favor  the  sailing  of  the  brig  Caravan  from 
the  port  of  Salem  bound  for  the  coast  of  Asia. 

Already  the  little  boat  was  rocking  at  its 
moorings  out  in  the  harbor.  Compared  with 
the  gigantic  steamships  which  cross  the  ocean 
to-day,  she  was  a  baby  craft  of  perhaps  five 
hundred  tons'  burden.  The  Mayflower  was 
about  one  third  the  size  of  the  Caravan,  while 
the  Titanic  was  one  hundred  times  larger. 
On  board,  her  crew  were  receiving  freight 
and  provisions  for  the  long  voyage  around 
the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  to  India. 

On  shore,  four  people  looked  anxiously 
[38] 


The  "  Caravan 


Ann  of  Ava 


each  day  out  toward  the  black  masts  of  the 
ship  which  was  to  bear  them  away  from 
everything  dear  and  familiar  into  experiences 
which  God  alone  knew.  Enough  that  he 
knew  and  would  provide  for  the  whole,  un- 
certain future  of  their  lives  1 

On  Monday,  the  17th  of  February,  a  ter- 
rific storm  fell  upon  Salem,  almost  burying 
the  town  in  snow.  The  next  day  dawned 
bleak  and  cold,  with  a  presage  in  the  air  of 
coming  events.  Before  the  forenoon  was 
past  the  desired  and  dreaded  summons  be» 
came  a  reality.  A  message  was  brought  to 
the  Judsons  and  Xewells  requesting  them  to 
go  on  board  at  once,  that  the  ship  might  be 
ready  to  sail  with  the  first  friendly  breeze. 

The  inevitable  "  last  things  "  were  hastily 
collected  and  carried  down  to  the  wharf.  The 
sleigh  stood  at  the  door  and  the  long,  long 
good-bys  must  be  said.  Down  through  the 
snowy  streets  of  Salem  to  the  end  of  the 
lowest  wharf  in  town  the  missionaries  were 
driven,  thence  to  be  transferred  by  the  cus- 
tom-house boat  to  the  Caravan  out  in  the  bay. 

It  was  a  dreary,  frigid  day,  but  neverthe- 
less a  number  of  friends  gathered  at  the  end 

[39] 


Ann  of  Ava 


of  the  pier  to  show  their  sympathy  with  the 
young  missionaries  and  their  brave  purpose. 
During  the  two  weeks  of  w^aiting  for  the 
Caravan  to  sail,  interest  in  the  new  under- 
taking had  mightily  deepened.  Even  those 
opposed  could  not  check  their  hearts'  impulse 
to  lavish  kindness  upon  the  missionaries  and 
their  j'^outhful  brides.  A  purse  of  fifty  dol- 
lars was  left  at  the  door  one  day  with  the 
label,  "  For  Mr.  Judson's  private  use."  Best 
of  all,  money  for  outfits  and  salaries  had  been 
almost  miraculously  provided.  On  January 
twenty-seventh  only  twelve  hundred  dollars 
was  in  the  treasury  of  the  new  mission  board. 
Within  three  weeks  more  than  six  thousand 
dollars  had  been  freely  given,  and  by  the  time 
the  two  sliips  Harmony  and  Caravan  sailed 
the  needs  of  the  missionaries  were  supplied 
for  a  year  in  advance. 

The  west  wind,  which  throughout  the  day 
had  given  promise  of  departure  to  the  long- 
delayed  ship,  died  away  at  dusk,  and  thus 
removed  all  hope  of  sailing  that  night.  From 
the  deck  of  the  Caravan  the  surrounding 
scene  was  desolation  itself.  The  sky  was 
ominously  black  and  dark,  stormy  waters 
[40] 


Ann  of  Ava 


stretched  away  seaward.  On  shore,  dim  lit- 
tle lights  spoke  tantalizingly  of  home.  But 
within,  the  cabin  of  the  Judsons  presented 
a  sharp  contrast  to  the  dolefulness  without. 
Adoniram  and  Ann  Judson,  Samuel  and 
Harriet  Newell,  and  two  young  men  friends 
who  were  spending  the  night  on  board,  talked 
exultingly  together  of  their  high  hopes  for 
a  great  work  to  be  achieved  in  Christ's  name 
in  the  needy  countries  of  the  ancient  East. 
They  sang  hymns  from  an  old  singing-book 
long  since  forgotten,  and  they  prayed  in  the 
"  quietness  and  confidence  "  which  was  their 
daily  strength.  Ann  Judson,  shiny  eyed  and 
triumphant,  sang  and  talked  with  almost  her 
usual  animation.  Somewhat  quieter  than  the 
others  was  the  youngest  of  their  number, 
Harriet  Newell.  Her  thoughts  clung  wist- 
fully to  the  mother  away  over  the  snowy 
fields  in  Haverhill  town.  Late  in  the  evening 
she  wrote  her  a  letter  to  be  sent  back  by  the 
pilot- boat  on  the  morrow: — '*  Here  am  I, 
my  dear  mother,  on  board  the  brig  Caravan 
in  a  neat  little  cabin.  ...  I  have  at  length 
taken  leave  of  the  land  of  my  forefathers  and 
entered  the  vessel  which  will  be  my  place  of 

[41] 


Ann  of  Ava 


residence  till  I  reach  the  desired  haven. 
Think  not,  my  dear  mother,  that  we  are  now 
sitting  in  silent  sorrow,  strangers  to  peace. 
O,  no;  though  the  idea  that  I  have  left  you, 
to  see  you  no  more,  is  painful  indeed,  yet  I 
think  I  can  say  that  I  have  found  the  grace 
of  my  Redeemer  sufficient  for  me — his 
strength  has  been  made  perfect  in  my  weak- 
ness. We  have  been  engaged  in  singing  this 
evening,  and  can  you  believe  me  when  I  tell 
you  that  I  never  engaged  in  this  delightful 
part  of  worship  with  greater  pleasure?  .  .  . 
I  never  shall  repay  you,  my  dear  mother, 
for  all  the  kindness  and  love  you  have  shown 
me  thus  far  in  life.  Accept  my  sincere  thanks 
for  every  favor,  and  O,  forgive  me  for  so 
often  causing  you  pain  and  anxiety.  May 
the  Almighty  reward  you  a  hundred-fold  for 
your  kindness  to  me.  And  now,  my  dear 
mother,  what  more  shall  I  say  but  ask  you 
to  pray  for  me  and  engage  other  Christians 
to  do  the  same.  ...  It  is  late — I  must  re- 
tire— dear  mother,  adieu." 

The  following  morning,  the  19th  of  Febru- 
ary, a  little  after  sunrise,  the  Caravan  spread 
[42] 


Ann  of  Ava 


her  sails  to  the  wind  and  steered  her  course 
straight  out  to  sea.  The  tall  chimney  at  the 
entrance  of  the  harbor  was  a  landmark  long 
to  be  distinguished  as  it  traced  a  black  perpen- 
dicular against  the  snowy  New  England  hills. 
But  by  and  by  it  vanished  into  dim  space  and 
the  great,  gray  ocean  was  all  around. 


[43] 


PERPLEXITIES  ON  EVERY  SIDE 


INSIDE  a  musty  old  tavern  made  of  mud 
and  straw,  on  the  banks  of  the  Hoogly 
river  in  India,  a  young  woman  waited 
in  lonely  suspense.  The  desolateness  of  her 
attitude  might  have  revealed  her  a  stranger 
in  a  strange  land,  even  had  her  brown  hair 
and  fair  skin  not  marked  her  instantly  as 
different  from  the  richly  brunette  women  of 
India.  In  beauty,  however,  she  belonged 
among  the  loveliest  in  that  land  of  lovely 
women,  and  the  sad  anxiety  in  her  eyes  added 
a  softened  appeal  to  her  charm. 

For  the  first  time  since  she  landed  in  India 
five  months  before,  Ann  Judson  found  her- 
self alone  and  unprotected  among  the  strange, 
dark  people  of  the  country,  with  their 
stranger  tones  and  gestures.  Where  her  hus- 
band was  and  when  he  would  come,  she  did 
not  know.  They  had  been  separated  sixteen 
miles  up  the  river  when  they  received  the 
government  order  to  leave  the  ship  in  which 
they  had  taken  flight  from  Calcutta  two  days 
[44] 


Ann  of  Ava 


previously.  Here  she  was,  without  escort, 
with  only  a  few  rupees  in  her  purse,  only  a 
few  words  of  the  language  at  her  command, 
the  old  thatched  tavern  her  only  place  of 
refuge,  and  even  its  hospitality  uncertain. 
Her  father's  house  in  Bradford  seemed  mil- 
lions of  miles  away,  as  if  it  were  upon  an- 
other planet,  and  her  girlhood  life  in  the 
New  England  village  almost  like  another 
existence. 

This  was  the  solid  reality  of  missionary 
experience  of  which  she  had  vaguely  dreamed 
in  the  early  days  of  her  engagement  to  Ado- 
niram  Judson.  "  These  are  the  trials  which 
attend  a  missionary's  life  and  which  I  antici- 
pated," she  said  to  herself,  "  and  which,  with 
God's  help,  I  am  ready  to  meet." 

It  was  a  series  of  disappointing  adventures 
which  had  led  up  to  Ann's  desolate  situation 
in  the  river  tavern.  When  our  American 
missionaries  landed  in  Calcutta  in  June, 
1812,  the  East  India  Company  had  promptly 
turned  its  hostile  eye  upon  them  and  deter- 
mined to  force  them  out  of  the  country.  This 
company  was  a  trading  corporation  which  at 
that  time  controlled  Great  Britain's  policy  in 

[45] 


Ann  of  Ava 


India.  Its  officials  had  no  welcome  for  mis- 
sionaries, because  it  was  feared  that  any  'at- 
tempt to  interfere  with  the  idolatrous  religion 
of  the  native  peoples  would  breed  rebellion  to 
British  rule.  Moreover,  a  large  revenue 
poured  into  the  treasury  of  the  company  from 
protection  given  to  idol  worship,  so  that  the 
heathen  religion  was  financially  profitable. 
A  year  later,  by  the  efforts  of  some  Christian 
gentlemen  in  England,  the  charter  of  the 
East  India  Company  was  amended  in  its 
passage  through  Parliament  to  insure  tolera- 
tion to  missionaries  in  India. 

In  1812,  however,  the  little  groups  of 
American  pioneers  arriving  by  the  Caravan, 
and  six  weeks  later  by  the  Harmony,  felt  the 
full  brunt  of  government  opposition,  ag- 
gravated by  the  hostile  relations  then  exist- 
ing between  England  and  America  because 
of  the  second  war  between  the  two  countries. 

Upon  landing  in  India  the  Judsons  and 
Newells  had  been  invited  to  Serampore  to 
visit  the  English  Baptist  missionaries  until 
their  companions  should  arrive  by  the  Har- 
mony and  locations  for  the  new  missions  be 
determined.  William  Carey,  the  first  Eng- 
[46] 


Ann  of  Ava 


lish  foreign  missionary,  with  his  colleagues, 
Marshman  and  Ward,  had,  by  persistent 
struggle,  built  up  a  wonderful  missionary 
enterprise  in  the  town  of  Serampore  on  the 
Ganges,  fifteen  miles  from  Calcutta. 

Here  the  newcomers  spent  ten  happy,  ab- 
sorbing days  observing  the  customs  of  the 
country  and  trying  to  decide,  with  the  help 
of  the  older  missionaries,  where  they  would 
settle.  Burma  had  been  the  land  of  desire 
for  Adoniram  Judson  since  his  student  days 
at  Andover,  when  he  had  read  Col.  Symes's 
'Embassy  to  Ava,  and  his  imagination  had 
responded  to  its  glowing  pictures  of  Oriental 
life.  But  Burma  was  a  forbidden  territory 
to  missionaries,  so  said  Dr.  Carey,  because 
of  the  cruel  despotism  of  its  government  and 
brutal  savagery  of  its  inhabitants.  Two 
Englishmen  had  attempted  a  mission  there, 
but  had  abandoned  it  as  hopeless.  Dr. 
Carey's  son,  the  only  missionary  then  in 
Burma,  had  been  obliged  to  take  refuge  for 
fifty  days  on  an  English  frigate,  and  his  re- 
turn to  the  country  had  been  on  precarious 
terms.  Burma  presented  a  dismal  prospect; 
but  where  should  they  go  to  escape  the  hos- 

[47] 


Ann  of  Ava 


tility  of  the  East  India  Company  and  find 
a  people  who  would  listen  to  their  message? 

One  July  afternoon  their  deliberations  met 
with  a  vigorous  interruption.  An  official 
messenger  arrived  at  Serampore  bearing  a 
summons  for  Mr.  Judson  and  Mr.  Newell 
to  present  themselves  immediately  at  the 
police  office  in  Calcutta.  There,  an  order 
from  the  Governor-general  was  read  to  them, 
commanding  them  to  return  to  America  upon 
the  very  ship  on  which  they  had  come,  the 
Caravan,  then  making  ready  for  her  west- 
ward voyage.  Captain  Heard  had  been  re- 
fused a  clearance  from  port  unless  he  gave 
security  that  his  missionary  passengers  would 
be  taken  on  board.  What  should  they  do? 
It  was  insufferable  to  think  of  going  home 
before  their  work  was  even  begun.  The  dis- 
appointment and  humiliation  were  over- 
whelming, but  the  belief  that  God  had  sent 
them  and  meant  them  to  remain  was  un- 
shaken. 

There  seemed  to  be  but  one  way  of  escape, 
— to  seek  some  other  heathen  country,  out- 
side the  jurisdiction  of  the  East  India  Com- 
pany. So,  with  sudden,  desperate  purpose 
[48] 


Ann  of  Ava 


they  asked  permission  to  embark  for  the  Isle 
of  France.  The  Isle  of  France,  now  Mauri- 
tius, was  five  thousand  miles  southwest,  near 
Madagascar.  Their  request  was  granted,  and 
on  the  fourth  day  of  August  Samuel  Newell 
and  his  frail  wife  sailed  away  from  all  their 
friends  in  a  small  ship  bound  for  Port  Louis, 
in  the  Isle  of  France.  The  vessel  could 
accommodate  but  two  passengers,  and  the 
Newells  were  chosen  to  go  because  Har- 
riet's frail  health  made  a  home  an  urgent 
necessity. 

Four  months  longer  Adoniram  and  Ann 
Judson  lingered  in  Calcutta,  living  in  daily 
dread  of  summary  dismissal  from  the  coun- 
try. Mr.  Rolt,  an  English  gentleman,  re- 
lieved somewhat  their  embarrassing  predica- 
ment by  offering  the  hospitality  of  his  home. 
There,  in  his  spacious  English  house,  while 
waiting  for  a  way  out  of  their  dilemma,  the 
greatest  of  their  many  perplexities  assailed 
them. 

They  were  confronted  by  a  troublesome 
problem  which  could  not  be  evaded,  and 
which  pressed  daily  upon  their  minds  for  so- 
lution.   On  shipboard,  while  making  the  long 

[49] 


Ann  of  Ava 


voyage  of  four  months  from  America  to 
India,  they  had  first  grappled  with  the  ques- 
tion of  the  Baptist  belief  as  distinguished 
from  that  of  the  Congregationalists,  and  Mr. 
Judson's  old  convictions  had  become  strangely 
disturbed.  At  first  Mrs.  Judson  took  the 
opposite  side  in  argument  and  declared  with 
her  old  independence,  "  If  you  become  a 
Baptist,  I  will  not." 

During  the  first  weeks  on  shore  the  ques- 
tion was  silenced  by  the  more  urgent  demand 
for  home  and  shelter.  But  in  the  long  sum- 
mer days  in  Calcutta,  in  the  seclusion  of  Mr. 
Rolt's  library,  the  subject  recurred  with 
painful  insistence,  and  they  resolved  to  deal 
conscientiously  and  thoroughly  with  its 
claims.  The  result  was  that  they  felt  them- 
selves compelled  by  conviction  to  withdraw 
from  the  Congregationalists,  with  whom  their 
lot  had  been  cast  since  childhood,  and  to  join 
the  Baptists. 

In  those  days  communions  were  more 
sharply  divided  than  to-day,  and  to  change 
from  one  to  another  usually  meant  a  heroic 
act  of  conscience.  Especially  for  the  pioneer 
missionaries  was  it  a  difficult  and  brave  de- 
[60] 


Ann  of  Ava 


cision.  They  could  hardly  expect  the  con- 
tinued support  of  the  Congregationalists,  nor 
could  they  confidently  look  to  the  Baptists 
for  financial  aid,  since  that  denomination  was 
not  organized  for  missionary  activity.  Where 
should  they  turn?  Supporters  and  friends 
would  be  likely  to  misinterpret  their  action. 
Even  their  own  families,  when  removed  by 
so  great  a  distance,  might  find  their  decision 
hard  to  understand  and  accept.  Hardest  of 
all  they  would  probably  have  to  be  separated 
in  future  work  from  their  companions,  those 
old  schoolmates  and  friends  who  had  come  to 
India  with  them.  "  A  renunciation  of  our 
former  sentiments  has  caused  us  more  pain 
than  anything  which  has  ever  happened  to  us 
through  our  lives,"  wrote  Mrs.  Judson  in  a 
home  letter. 

One  happy  surprise  came  to  relieve  their 
downcast  condition.  To  the  amazement  of 
all  his  associates,  Luther  Rice  quietly  an- 
nounced his  intention  to  join  the  Baptists. 
In  the  secrecy  of  his  own  thoughts  he  had 
been  dealing  with  the  question,  and  his  con- 
clusion was  thus  reached  independently  of 
outside  influence.     It  was  a  great  solace  to 

[61] 


Ann  of  Ava 


the  Judsons  in  their  lonely  outlook  to  have 
the  assurance  of  his  companionship  in  their 
new  mission,  wherever  it  might  be. 

Another  strong  encouragement  came  from 
the  splendid  generosity  of  the  missionaries  at 
Serampore.  They  held  a  consultation  and 
agreed  to  supply  funds  for  the  American 
missionaries  out  of  their  own  treasury  in  case 
money  did  not  arrive  from  America  when 
needed.  They  would  advance  the  sums  re- 
quired, and  if  the  American  societies  could 
reimburse  them,  well  and  good,  if  not,  they 
would  count  it  a  gift  to  the  cause  of  Christ. 

Mr.  Rolt  was  unfailing  in  his  interest  and 
sympathy  with  the  young  people  who  had 
come  so  many  thousands  of  miles  from  home 
on  a  mission  of  good-will,  and  had  met  such  a 
frosty  reception  at  the  hands  of  government 
authorities.  They  continued  to  be  his  guests 
until  late  in  November,  when  one  day,  about 
Thanksgiving  time  at  home  in  New  England, 
a  startling  order  was  brought  to  the  house  in 
Calcutta.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Judson  and  Mr.  Rice 
were  commanded  by  the  government  to  em- 
bark at  once  for  England  upon  a  vessel  of 
the  East  India  Company.  Their  names  were 
[52j 


Ann  of  Ava 


published  in  the  newspaper  lists  of  passengers 
on  the  England-bound  ship.  All  hope  of  es- 
cape seemed  to  be  cut  off  this  time,  but  the 
two  young  men  and  one  young  woman  were 
not  ready  to  acknowledge  themselves  beaten 
by  the  whole  East  India  Company,  so  again 
they  tried  to  circumvent  its  order. 

By  some  means  Mr.  Judson  and  Mr.  Rolt 
discovered  that  a  ship  named  the  Creole 
would  sail  in  two  days  for  the  Isle  of  France. 
They  applied  to  the  chief  magistrate  for  a 
passport,  but  he  refused  them.  They  then 
asked  the  captain  if  he  would  take  them  on 
board  without  a  pass.  He  replied:  "There 
is  my  ship,  do  as  you  please."  With  Mr. 
Rolt's  assistance  they  secured  coolies  to  carry 
their  baggage,  and  at  midnight  "  stole  like 
criminals "  through  the  deserted  streets  of 
Calcutta,  through  the  gates  of  the  dockyards, 
which,  contrary  to  night  rules,  opened  to 
admit  them,  and  on  board  the  forbidden  ves- 
sel. The  next  morning  the  Creole  sailed  out 
of  Calcutta  harbor,  down  the  Hoogly  river 
toward  the  Bay  of  Bengal  and  the  open  sea. 

For  two  days  all  was  well  on  shipboard, 
but   toward   evening   of   the   second   day,    a 

[63] 


Ann  of  Ava 


government  dispatch  overtook  them  forbid- 
ding the  pilot  to  proceed  since  there  were 
passengers  on  the  ship  who  had  been  ordered 
to  England.  The  pursued  passengers  must 
needs  leave  the  vessel  at  once,  even  in  the 
darkness  of  evening,  so  the  two  young  men 
entered  a  small  boat  to  go  on  shore  to  a 
tavern  about  a  mile  away.  The  captain,  with 
the  gallantry  born  of  the  sight  of  a  lovely 
woman  in  distress,  bade  Mrs.  Judson  spend 
the  night  on  the  ship,  where  their  baggage 
also  would  be  allowed  to  remain.  It  would 
be  quite  safe  for  her  he  assured  her,  even 
though  an  officer  should  come  to  search  the 
boat. 

Through  the  night  and  the  next  day  the 
Creole  lay  at  anchor  waiting  for  orders. 
When  evening  came,  Mrs.  Judson  also  was 
forced  to  depart  hurriedly  for  land.  The 
owner  of  the  ship  heard  of  its  detention  and 
went  to  police  headquarters  to  inquire  the 
reason.  There  he  was  informed  that  "  it  was 
suspected  there  were  persons  on  board  whom 
the  captain  had  been  forbidden  to  receive." 
The  ship  could  not  proceed  until  it  was 
proved  that  no  such  parties  were  among  the 
[64.] 


Ann  of  Ava 


passengers.  Mrs.  Judson  hastened  on  shore 
in  a  small  boat  while  the  pilot  wrote  a  cer- 
tificate that  the  suspected  people  were  not 
on  the  ship. 

At  the  tavern  ^Irs.  Judson  found  her  hus- 
band and  Mr.  Rice  and  in  tense  anxiety 
they  consulted  as  to  their  next  move.  What 
should  they  do?  Escape  on  the  Creole  was 
now  hopelessly  blocked  without  a  passport. 
Return  to  Calcutta  would  be  but  a  confes- 
sion of  defeat.  Where  was  the  way  out  of 
this  labyrinth  of  perplexities?  Mr.  Rice  de- 
cided to  start  for  Calcutta  at  once,  to  make 
one  more  effort  to  secure  a  pass.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Judson  spent  the  night  and  the  next 
day  at  the  tavern,  watching  in  vain  for  a 
message  from  the  ship  where  their  baggage 
still  remained,  and  dreading  lest  every 
European  in  sight  was  spying  upon  their 
movements.  Mr.  Rice  came  back  from  Cal- 
cutta to  report  another  refusal.  The  owner 
of  the  ship  was  in  high  dudgeon  because  his 
vessel  was  delayed  so  long  on  their  account. 
"  Perplexed  on  every  side,  yet  not  unto 
despair,"  because,  as  Harriet  Newell  once 
said:  "He  who  takes  care  of  the  ravens  will 

[65] 


Ann  of  Ava 


not  forsake  his  own  children  in  the  hour  of 
their  affliction." 

Another  uneasy  night  at  the  tavern  and 
in  the  morning  a  disquieting  message  from 
the  captain  of  the  Creole!  He  was  per- 
mitted to  sail,  but  they  must  remove  their 
baggage  from  the  ship  at  once.  It  seemed 
unwise  to  linger  longer  at  the  tavern,  so 
they  decided  to  journey  on  to  another  little 
Indian  inn  sixteen  miles  down  the  river.  It 
would  be  hazardous  for  the  two  men  to  show 
themselves  on  the  prohibited  vessel,  so  JNIrs. 
Judson  went  alone  on  board  the  Creole  and 
made  arrangements  for  the  transfer  of  their 
baggage.  As  she  could  find  no  small  boat, 
she  asked  the  captain  if  the  baggage  might 
be  left  where  it  was  until  the  next  tavern  was 
reached.  Not  only  did  he  readily  consent, 
but  invited  Mrs.  Judson  to  make  the  journey 
herself  on  his  vessel,  saying  that  the  river 
trip  in  a  small  craft  would  be  exceedingly 
unpleasant. 

Again  she  hurried  on  shore  to  notify  her 

companions  of  this  change  of  plan.    For  the 

second  time  Mr.  Rice  set  out  for  Calcutta  to 

secure  passage,  if  possible,  for  Ceylon.     Mr. 

[56] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Judson  hired  a  boat  for  his  own  transporta- 
tion down  the  river  to  the  tavern  appointed. 
Meanwhile,  ]Mrs.  Judson  returned  to  the 
Creole  in  the  pilot's  boat  which  he  had 
courteously  sent  on  shore  for  her  use.  It 
was  an  exciting  and  dangerous  chase  after 
the  ship  which  had  slipped  rapidly  down 
stream  with  the  tide.  The  river  was  rough 
because  of  the  high  wind,  and  the  tropical 
sun  blistering  in  its  rays  of  heat.  The 
native  rowers  hoisted  a  sail  so  large  that 
repeatedly  it  tilted  the  boat  on  one  side. 
To  allay  the  fears  of  their  fair  lady  passen- 
ger they  kept  repeating,  "  Cutcha  pho  annah, 
sahib,  cutcha  pho  annah"  "  Never  fear, 
madam,  never  fear." 

Safely  at  last  they  came  alongside  the 
large  vessel,  hastened  on  board,  and  soon 
stopped  opposite  the  uninviting  old  tavern 
to  which  Mrs.  Judson  must  go  alone.  Again 
the  pilot  offered  his  boat  to  convey  her  on 
shore.  There,  with  all  speed,  she  arranged 
for  another  boat  to  go  out  to  the  Creole  to 
remove  their  baggage.  Finally,  the  neces- 
sary business  done,  she  turned  hesitatingly 
toward  the  thatched  tavern  which  must  har- 


Ann  of  Ava 


bor  her,  welcome  or  not,  until  her  husband 
should  arrive. 

Longer  than  it  has  taken  us  to  recount 
these  adventures,  did  Ann  Judson  have  to 
watch  and  wait  for  the  coming  of  her  hus- 
band. Several  hours  dragged  by  before  he 
appeared  at  the  entrance  of  the  tavern  and 
eagerly  sought  his  wife.  Thankfully  the  two 
greeted  each  other,  their  relief  at  their  mutual 
safety  overcoming  for  a  time  anxiety  for 
the  future. 

Quickly,  however,  they  began  to  strain 
every  nerve  of  thought  to  find  a  way  out  of 
their  present  dilemma.  Should  they,  after 
all,  return  to  Calcutta  and  face  the  worst, 
or  should  they  confide  in  the  tavernkeeper 
and  seek  his  assistance?  Anything  seemed 
preferable  to  a  retreat  to  the  city  which  had 
exiled  them,  so  they  asked  the  innkeeper  if 
he  could  help  them  secure  a  passage  to 
Ceylon?  He  replied  that  a  captain  who  was 
a  friend  of  his  was  due  on  the  morrow,  and 
that  very  likely  he  might  take  them  on  his 
ship  bound  for  Madras.  Encouraged  by  this 
possibility  and  by  the  safe  arrival  of  their 
baggage,  they  waited  two  days  at  the  tavern, 
[68] 


Ann  of  Ava 


during  which  time  JNIr.  Rice  rejoined  his 
companions.  On  the  third  day  the  looked- 
for  vessel  anchored  directly  opposite  the 
tavern.  The  innkeeper  went  on  board  to 
intercede  on  behalf  of  his  fugitive  guests,  but 
returned  with  the  refusal  of  the  captain  to 
receive  them  as  passengers.  Thereupon  they 
resolved  to  interview  the  stubborn  captain 
themselves  and  beg  for  leniency.  With  this 
slender  hope  in  mind,  they  sat  down  to  sup- 
per when  a  letter  was  handed  to  them  I 
They  felt  as  if  an  actual  miracle  had  been 
wrought  when  they  foiind  that  the  letter 
contained  a  pass  from  the  chief  magistrate 
for  embarkation  on  the  Creole  for  the  Isle 
of  France.  "  Who  procured  this  pass  for 
us,  or  in  what  way,  we  are  still  ignorant: 
we  could  only  view  the  hand  of  God  and 
wonder."  Thus  wrote  Mrs.  Judson  in  a 
long  home  letter  detailing  her  many  ad- 
ventures. 

Then  followed  a  frantic  pursuit  of  the 
Creole^  which  they  feared  might  be  already 
out  at  sea,  since  she  had  three  days'  start. 
It  was  just  possible  that  she  might  be  an- 
chored at  Saugur,  seventy  miles  down  stream, 

[69] 


Ann  of  Ava 


at  the  entrance  of  the  Hoogly  river.  At  any 
rate,  they  must  make  the  venture  and  hasten 
the  pursuit.  As  soon  as  darkness  fell  the 
three  fugitives  hurried  into  a  small  boat  and 
pushed  out  against  the  tide  for  their  race  to 
safety.  All  that  night  JNIrs.  Judson  watched 
with  wide-open  eyes  by  the  side  of  her  hus- 
band, who  slept  peacefully  until  morning. 

The  next  day  wind  and  tide  sped  them  on 
their  way,  and  by  nightfall  Saugur  was  in 
sight  with  the  masts  of  many  ships  at  anchor. 
Was  the  Creole  among  them,  or  had  she  al- 
ready crossed  the  invisible  boundary  between 
river  and  bay  and  sailed  beyond  recall  ?  With 
eager  eyes  they  scanned  the  boats  and,  joy 
to  behold — there  was  the  Creole  in  their 
midst!  For  two  days  she  had  been  anchored 
at  Saugur  waiting  for  members  of  her  crew. 
"  I  never  enjoyed  a  sweeter  moment  in  my 
life  than  that  when  I  was  sure  we  were  in 
sight  of  the  Creole!'  wrote  Ann  Judson  to 
the  Hasseltine  house  in  Bradford. 


[60] 


VI 
THE  ISLE  OF  FRANCE 


SOMETIMES  it  happens  that  the  love- 
liest scene  in  nature  becomes  the  back- 
ground of  the  most  woful  tragedy. 
The  Isle  of  France,  for  natural  beauty,  was 
among  the  most  charming  of  the  islands  of  the 
Indian  Ocean.  Blue,  blue  sky  was  reflected 
in  the  waters  of  the  reef-bound  harbor,  and 
filmy  clouds  brooded  upon  the  summits  of  the 
mountains.  Gleaming  springs  flashed  like 
quicksilver  down  the  shadowy  mountainsides, 
and  the  scarlet  and  blue  blossoms  of  the 
climbing  plant  hung  from  the  dark  cliffs.  In 
the  woods  and  valleys  grew  lemon  and  orange 
trees,  date  and  coco  palms,  and  a  tangle  of 
brightly-colored,  fragrant  flowers. 

It  was  this  setting  of  tropical  verdure  which 
Saint  Pierre  chose  for  his  tragic  and  true 
tale.  Paid  and  Virginia.  It  was  in  the  city 
of  Port  Louis,  at  the  foot  of  the  moun- 
tain which  sheltered  in  a  rock-bound  vale  the 
cabin  of  Paul  and  Virginia,  that,  one  hun- 
dred years  later,  Samuel  and  Harriet  Newell 

[61] 


Ann  of  Ava 


met  the  tragedy  of  their  young  lives.  Here, 
also,  Ann  and  Adoniram  Judson  came  too 
late  to  succor  their  friends  in  their  hour  of 
need. 

In  January,  1813,  after  nearly  two  months 
of  contrary  winds  and  rough  seas,  the  Creole 
sailed  into  the  harbor  of  Port  Louis  and 
dropped  anchor.  On  deck  Mrs.  Judson  stood 
with  her  husband  and  Mr.  Rice,  gazing  at 
the  fairyland  scene  before  them,  wondering 
if  there  at  last  they  would  find  the  home 
they  had  sought  so  many  months  in  vain, 
wondering  too,  how  soon  they  would  greet 
Samuel  and  Harriet  Newell  and  with  them 
compare  adventures  of  the  past  and  pros- 
pects for  the  future.  As  they  lingered  on 
the  ship  waiting  for  some  means  of  trans- 
portation to  shore,  a  young  man  came  on 
board  to  welcome  them,  but  so  slow  and 
reluctant  was  his  step,  so  changed  and  hag- 
gard his  face,  they  scarcely  recognized  their 
old  friend,  Samuel  Newell.  Before  he  could 
speak  Ann  Judson  read  the  tale  which  his 
sorrowful,  beseeching  eyes  revealed.  Har- 
riet, his  own  beloved  Harriet  had  left  him — 
alone  in  the  world.  In  broken  snatches, 
[62] 


Ann  of  Ava 


then  and  later,  he  told  his  friends  of  his 
bitter  loss. 

The  ship  on  which  the  Newells  had  taken 
passage  from  Calcutta  the  August  before 
had  been  battered  unmercifully  by  winds  and 
waves,  so  that  the  voyage  lengthened  into 
three  anxious  months.  Far  out  on  the  Indian 
ocean  a  baby  girl  was  born  in  the  little  cabin 
on  the  ship's  deck  and  given  her  mother's 
name,  Harriet  Atwood.  For  a  few  days 
joy  and  hope  abounded  in  the  hearts  of  the 
parents,  but  speedily  cold  and  rain  fell  upon 
the  ill-fated  ship,  and  the  baby,  unable  to 
endure  the  exposure,  died  in  her  mother's 
arms.  After  the  child's  death  Harriet  showed 
the  first  signs  of  the  fatal  disease  which 
rapidly  consumed  her  life. 

When  at  length  the  dreadful  voyage  was 
over  and  the  belated  ship  came  to  port,  a 
British  surgeon  and  a  Danish  physician  min- 
istered to  the  sick  wife,  but  to  no  avail. 
Gradually  her  strength  waned  until  the  last 
flicker  of  hope  for  her  recovery  vanished. 
Night  and  day  Samuel  Newell  sat  by  the 
bedside  of  his  dear  one  trying  to  catch  every 
precious    word    she    spoke.      Her    thoughts 

[63] 


Ann  of  Ava 


seemed  to  dwell  with  perfect  restfulness  upon 
Christ  and  heaven,  recurring  sometimes  to 
her  mother  across  the  seas  in  the  Atwood 
homestead  in  Haverhill.  "  Tell  my  dear 
mother,"  she  said,  "  how  much  Harriet  loved 
her.  Tell  her  to  look  to  God  and  keep  near 
to  him  and  he  will  support  and  comfort  her 
in  all  her  trials.  Tell  my  brothers  and  sisters, 
from  the  lips  of  their  dying  sister,  that  there 
is  nothing  but  religion  worth  living  for. 
Tell  them,  and  also  my  dear  mother,  that 
I  have  never  regretted  leaving  my  native 
land  for  the  cause  of  Christ." 

One  afternoon  in  November,  the  blindness 
of  death  sealed  Harriet's  brown  eyes,  and 
there,  in  the  little  mud-walled  cottage,  she 
quietly  breathed  her  last.  Throughout  that 
awful  night  Samuel  Newell  watched  beside 
his  dead,  a  Negro  servant  his  only  companion 
in  the  silent  house.  In  a  land  of  strangers, 
without  one  friend  to  weep  with  him,  he  fol- 
lowed the  body  of  his  wife  to  the  graveyard 
of  Port  Louis,  where,  in  the  heathy  ground, 
under  an  evergreen  tree  which  suggested  her 
New  England  home,  was  buried  the  young 
woman  who  was  the  first  American  to  give 
[64] 


Ann  of  Ava 


her  life  for  the  cause  of  Christ  in  the  non- 
Christian  world. 

Ann  Judson's  thoughts  turned  mournfully 
toward  that  burial  spot  which  was  the  symbol 
of  her  welcome  in  the  Isle  of  France.  Who 
could  have  thought  that  death  would  so 
speedily  claim  one  of  their  little  band,  whose 
lives  were  all  the  more  precious  to  one  another 
because  they  were  so  few  in  number  and  so 
immeasurably  far  from  home?  With  but 
small  assurance  that  this  far-away  island  was 
to  be  their  permanent  home,  the  Judsons 
settled  themselves  in  Port  Louis  and  waited 
for  some  unmistakable  signs  of  God's  guid- 
ance. As  they  waited,  they  watched  for 
opportunities  to  serve  the  need  of  the  people 
about  them.  On  Sunday  Mr.  Judson  or 
Mr.  Rice  preached  to  the  British  soldiers 
stationed  on  the  island.  The  governor  was 
friendly  and  would  permit  a  Christian  mission 
to  be  establislied,  even  though  he  had  received 
warning  from  the  British  government  at 
Bengal  to  "  keep  an  eye  upon  those  Ameri- 
can missionaries."  Moreover,  there  was  con- 
vincing evidence  of  the  ignorance  and  degra- 
dation of  the  inhabitants  of  the  island. 

[65] 


Ann  of  Ava 


One  evening  there  was  a  hideous  commo- 
tion in  the  courtyard  which  adjoined  the  Jud- 
sons'  house  in  Port  Louis.  A  Negro  slave 
stood  with  her  hands  tied  behind  her  back 
while  her  mistress  beat  her  unmercifully  with 
a  club.  Promptly  Mrs.  Judson  opened  her 
door  and  ventured  upon  the  scene.  In  broken 
French  she  begged  the  cruel  mistress  to  stop 
beating  her  slave.  Surprised  by  the  inter- 
ruption and  by  the  gentle  beauty  of  the 
strange  lady,  the  woman  ceased  her  blows 
but  angrily  insisted  that  the  servant  was  very 
bad  and  had  recently  run  away.  Mrs.  Jud- 
son talked  quietly  with  the  enraged  mistress 
until  her  anger  seemed  to  be  appeased,  al- 
though, as  a  parting  taunt,  she  hurled  her 
club  at  the  slave's  head  with  such  force  that 
blood  ran  down  upon  the  girl's  clothes.  All 
night  the  poor  creature  was  left  with  her 
hands  tied  behind  her  back,  and  in  the  morn- 
ing she  was  released  and  set  to  work. 

The  second  night  the  clank  of  an  iron 
chain  was  heard  as  it  was  dragged  across 
the  courtyard.  From  her  quarters  in  the 
neighboring  house  Mrs.  Judson  saw,  to  her 
horror,  that  the  heavy  chain  was  intended  for 


Ann  of  Ava 


the  unfortunate  slave.  To  one  end  of  the 
long  chain  was  fastened  a  ring  large  enough 
to  be  locked  around  her  neck,  and  to  the 
ring  were  attached  two  pieces  of  iron  which 
would  press  against  her  face  on  either  side 
and  prevent  her  eating.  The  slave  girl  stood 
trembling  as  they  prepared  to  put  the  chain 
upon  her.  At  mere  sight  of  her  servant  the 
mistress  fell  into  a  furious  temper  and  began 
beating  her  as  she  had  done  the  night  be- 
fore. Again  she  was  intercepted  by  the  firm 
hand  and  gentle  voice  of  Mrs.  Judson. 
"  Your  servant  is  very  bad,  no  doubt,"  she 
said  in  her  pretty  foreign  accent,  "  but  you 
will  be  very  good  to  forgive  her."  Again 
the  mistress  drew  back  her  club  and  finally, 
yielding  to  entreaty,  consented  to  forgive  her 
slave  and  release  her  from  the  punishment 
decreed.  Emphatically  she  declared  that  par- 
don was  granted,  not  out  of  any  consideration 
for  the  slave,  but  simply  because  the  Ameri- 
can lady  requested  it.  The  terrified  Negress 
was  made  to  understand  the  terms  of  her 
release.  Whereupon  she  knelt  and  kissed 
the  feet  of  the  fair  white  lady  who  had 
saved  her,  crying,  "  Merd,  madame,  merd, 

[67] 


Ann  of  Ava 


madame."  Mrs.  Judson  could  scarcely  keep 
back  her  tears  as  she  received  the  gratitude  of 
the  slave  girl.  She  returned  to  the  house 
happy-hearted  because  she  had  delivered  one 
poor  slave  from  a  night  of  physical  misery, 
but  at  the  same  time  brooding  sadly  upon  the 
spiritual  misery  which  she  saw  daily  in  the 
faces  of  the  people  about  her. 

In  JNIarch  JNIr.  and  Mrs.  Judson  were  left 
alone  in  the  Isle  of  France.  Mr.  Newell 
departed  for  Ceylon,  away  from  the  scene 
of  his  desolated  life,  and  Mr.  Rice  actually 
sailed  for  America,  the  dear  homeland  which 
grew  dearer  every  day.  He  was  going  back 
to  tell  the  Baptist  churches,  what  letters  could 
never  adequately  tell,  that  the  heathen  peo- 
ples he  had  seen  were  in  desperate  need  of 
the  knowledge  of  Christ,  and  that  over  there 
in  distant  Asia  a  young  man  and  his  wife 
were  eagerly  waiting  to  be  adopted  as  the 
first  missionaries  of  the  Baptist  denomination 
in  America. 

Meanwhile,  those  two  young  people  lin- 
gered in  Port  Louis  watching  daily  for  some 
indication  to  tell  them  the  place  in  which  God 
had  appointed  them  to  live  and  labor.  There 
[68] 


Ann  of  Ava 


was  some  promise  of  usefulness  in  the  Isle  of 
France,  yet  when  they  compared  its  popula- 
tion with  that  of  other  regions  of  the  Orient 
they  could  not  feel  warranted  in  remaining. 
The  ancient  East  contained  hundreds  of  mil- 
lions of  people,  but  Christian  missionaries 
were  not  many  more  in  number  than  the 
original  group  of  twelve  whom  Christ  com- 
missioned to  "go  and  make  disciples  of  all 
the  nations."  Among  "  all  the  nations  "  of 
Asia  where  should  they  find  a  strategic  place 
to  establish  a  Christian  mission?  This  was 
the  anxious  query  which  pervaded  the  spring 
days  in  the  tropic  island,  and  to  which  the 
summer  gave  answer  unexpected  and  un- 
welcome. 


[69] 


VII 
A  HOME  AT  LAST 

WHEN  Nancy  Hasseltine  was  a 
gay,  restless  schoolgirl  her  mother 
once  reproved  her  by  saying,  "  I 
hope,  my  daughter,  you  will  one  day  be  sat- 
isfied with  rambling."  Little  did  the  girl  or 
mother  dream  how  literally  those  words 
would  be  fulfilled.  From  the  day  in  June 
when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Judson  went  on  shore 
from  the  Caravan  in  Calcutta  harbor,  for  a 
whole  long  year  they  knew  little  else  but 
rambling, — incessant  traveling  from  place 
to  place  in  weary,  anxious  search  for  some 
spot  they  would  be  allowed  to  call  home. 
They  had  now  embarked  from  the  Isle  of 
France,  intending  to  settle  in  Pulo  Penang, 
or  Prince  of  Wales'  Island,  in  the  Malacca 
Strait,  which,  since  its  purchase  by  the 
British,  was  receiving  a  large  population  of 
Hindus,  Chinese,  Burmans,  and  Siamese.  No 
ship  sailed  directly  from  the  Isle  of  France 
to  Penang,  so  they  must  needs  take  passage 
to  Madras,  expecting  to  proceed  thence  to 
the  Malacca  Strait. 
[70] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Early  in  June  the  travelers  found  them- 
selves again  in  the  domains  of  the  East  India 
Company  which  twice  before  had  decreed 
their  exile.  Their  arrival  in  Madras  was 
promptly  reported  to  the  police  and  the» 
report  forwarded  to  the  supreme  government 
in  Bengal.  It  was  plainly  to  be  seen  that 
as  soon  as  a  return  message  could  reach 
Madras  they  would  be  arrested  and  ordered 
to  England.  Escape  must  be  immediate  and 
final.  Several  vessels  lay  at  anchor  in  the 
Madras  roads  and  Mr.  Judson  anxiously  in- 
quired their  destination,  knowing  that  the 
direction  of  those  ships  soon  to  sail  must 
determine  the  fate  of  himself  and  his  wife 
and  the  new  mission. 

Alas,  only  one  would  sail  in  time  and  that 
one  was  destined  for  the  port  most  dreaded, 
most  formidable  in  all  the  eastern  world, 
Rangoon,  Burma!  The  question  was  now 
brought  to  an  issue  decisive  and  unescapable. 
Burma  it  must  be  or  Europe  and  home! 
Which?  Yes,  which?  Should  they  venture 
into  that  wild,  barbaric  country,  outside  a 
civilized  government,  inside  a  despotic  mon- 
archy  of   the   most   merciless   variety?     All 

[71] 


Ann  of  Ava 


their  new-found  friends  in  Madras  protested 
against  it.  The  test  was  stupendous  for  two 
young  people  not  yet  twenty-five  years  of 
age,  and  it  threw  them  upon  God  as  their 
only  dependence. 

About  this  time  the  diary  of  Ann  Judson 
bore  a  troubled  entry: 

"  June  20th.  We  have  at  last  concluded, 
in  our  distress,  to  go  to  Rangoon,  as  there 
is  no  vessel  about  to  sail  for  any  other  place 
ere  it  will  be  too  late  to  escape  a  second 
arrest.  O,  our  heavenly  Father,  direct  us 
aright!  Where  wilt  thou  have  us  go?  What 
wilt  thou  have  us  do?  Our  only  hope  is  in 
thee,  and  to  thee  alone  we  look  for  protec- 
tion. ...  I  have  been  accustomed  to  view 
this  field  of  labor  with  dread  and  terror,  but 
I  now  feel  perfectly  willing  to  make  it  my 
home  the  rest  of  my  life.  .  .  .  To-morrow 
we  expect  to  leave  this  place  and  the  few 
friends  we  have  found  here.  Adieu  to  pol- 
ished, refined.  Christian  society.  Our  lot  is 
not  cast  among  you,  but  among  pagans, 
among  barbarians,  whose  tender  mercies  are 
cruel.  Indeed,  we  voluntarily  forsake  you 
[72] 


Ann  of  Ava 


and  for  Jesus'  sake  choose  the  latter  for  our 
associates." 

The  voyage  to  Burma  proved  to  be  every 
whit  as  disagreeable  as  anticipations  of  the 
country  had  been.  It  was  the  most  distress- 
ing and  dangerous  journey  they  had  ever 
experienced,  not  excepting  Mr.  Judson's  trip 
to  England  when  he  was  captured  by  pirates. 
First  of  all,  a  disastrous  catastrophe  took 
place  at  the  outset  of  the  voyage.  Because 
of  Mrs.  Judson's  frail  health  her  friends  in 
Madras  had  procured  a  European  woman 
servant  to  accompany  her  to  Burma.  This 
woman  appeared  to  be  in  normal  condition 
when  she  went  on  board  the  ship,  but  within 
a  few  hours  after  sailing  she  fell  upon  the 
floor  writhing  in  convulsions.  Mrs.  Judson 
labored  over  her,  trying  by  every  means  in 
her  power  to  restore  her,  but  all  efforts  failed 
and  after  a  few  gasps  she  died. 

The  shock  of  the  sudden  death,  together 
with  the  violent  exertion  to  save  the  woman's 
life,  threw  Mrs.  Judson  into  such  an  excru- 
ciating sickness  that  she  was  brought  very 
close  to  death  herself.    In  their  uncomfortable 

[73] 


Ann  of  Ava 


quarters  on  shipboard  the  experience  was  the 
heaviest  hardship  they  had  yet  borne.  The 
ship  Georgianna  was  a  "  crazy "  old  craft, 
dirty,  miserable,  and  unseaworthy.  There 
was  no  stateroom  for  the  two  passengers 
except  such  as  was  made  by  canvas  protec- 
tion on  deck.  The  wind  was  blustering  and 
the  waves  choppy.  The  boat  tossed  inces- 
santly, its  motion  bringing  agonizing  pain  to 
the  sufferer  on  deck. 

No  physician  and  no  medicines  were  at 
hand  to  relieve  her  distress.  The  captain 
was  the  only  other  person  on  board  who  could 
speak  English,  as  the  Georgianna  was  a  Por- 
tuguese ship.  Mr.  Judson  was  doctor,  nurse, 
and  companion.  As  he  sat  by  the  prostrate 
form  of  his  wife,  helpless  to  mitigate  her 
pain,  he  realized  something  of  the  agony  of 
spirit  which  Samuel  Newell  endured  as  he 
watched,  unfriended  and  alone,  by  the  death- 
bed of  Harriet  in  the  Isle  of  France.  Ap- 
parently, there  was  but  one  way  to  save  the 
life  of  Ann  Judson,  and  that  way  seemed 
to  be  the  last  and  greatest  of  impossibilities. 
If  the  tossing  boat  could  be  quiet  for  one 
hour  relief  might  come  which  would  lead  to 
[74] 


Ann  of  Ava 


recovery.  Then  it  was  that  God's  watchful 
care  over  his  own  was  beautifully  manifested, 
just  as  Harriet  Newell  trustfully  said:  "  He 
who  takes  care  of  the  ravens  will  not  for- 
sake his  own  children  in  the  hour  of  their 
affliction." 

The  captain  came  on  deck  to  inform  his 
passengers  that  they  had  failed  to  make  the 
Nicobar  Island,  where  it  was  intended  to 
take  on  a  cargo  of  coconuts,  and  that  they 
were  in  imminent  danger  of  being  driven 
upon  the  Andaman  Islands.  To  escape  this 
fate  he  would  have  to  steer  his  vessel  through 
a  narrow  strait  between  two  of  the  islands, 
where  he  had  never  been  before  and  which 
was  reputed  to  be  a  region  of  great  terror 
for  men  and  ships.  The  coasts  were  said 
to  be  inhabited  by  cannibals  who  would 
promptly  kill  and  eat  every  one  on  board 
if  they  got  a  chance.  Moreover,  the  channel 
was  beset  with  perilous,  black  rocks  as  deadly 
to  passing  ships  as  great  icebergs  should  they 
happen  to  collide. 

With  these  gruesome  possibilities  ahead, 
the  ship  entered  the  channel,  when  suddenly 
the  wind  ceased  and  the  water  became  per- 

[75] 


Ann  of  Ava 


fectly  calm!  The  islands  cut  off  the  wind  so 
completely  that  the  narrow  passage  was  like 
a  sheltered  haven,  and  the  moving  vessel  al- 
most as  quiet  as  a  house  on  land.  The  still- 
ness brought  immediate  relief  to  Mrs.  Judson, 
and  to  her  husband  the  first  shining  hope  of 
her  recovery.  Rocks  and  cannibals  were  soon 
left  behind  and  the  ship,  under  more  favor- 
able winds,  sailed  on  toward  port. 

But  what  a  port!  It  was  the  13th  day  of 
July  when  the  Georgianna  entered  the  harbor 
of  Rangoon,  Burma.  Dismal,  doleful,  for- 
bidding, funereal — all  the  unpleasant  adjec- 
tives in  the  dictionary  could  hardly  do  jus- 
tice to  the  city  of  Rangoon  in  1813,  especially 
as  it  was  seen  from  approaching  vessels. 
Reaching  away  from  the  water's  edge  was  a 
vast,  flat  swamp,  "  a  sludgy,  squdgy  creek," 
with  tumble-down  bamboo  huts  raised  on 
poles  above  the  ground.  Everything  in  sight 
was  dilapidated,  neglected,  filthy.  For  the 
first  time  in  their  travels  Mr.  and  ]Mrs.  Jud- 
son saw  before  them  a  country  in  its  primi- 
tive, barbaric  condition,  untouched  by  Euro- 
pean civilization.  The  prospect  sent  a  stab 
of  terror  into  their  souls. 
[•76] 


Rangoon  River  Front 


Ann  of  Ava 


Toward  evening  JNIr.  Judson  went  on  shore 
to  reconnoiter,  but  came  back  to  the  ship 
more  cast  down  than  his  wife  had  ever  seen 
him.  The  night  of  their  arrival  in  Rangoon 
marked  the  bhiest  experience  of  all  their 
lives,  so  they  both  agreed  and  recorded  in 
their  diaries  and  letters.  Afterwards  they 
thought  that  they  ought  to  have  rejoiced  that 
first  night  to  find  themselves  actually  at  the 
haven  of  their  long  desire,  a  thoroughly 
heathen  country,  and  moreover,  one  which  did 
not  promptly  dismiss  them  from  its  shores. 
But  at  the  time,  so  heavy  was  the  burden  of 
loneliness  and  homesickness  that  their  one 
wish  was  for  speedy  death  to  remove  them 
from  the  hardships  of  earth  into  the  freedom 
of  heaven.  Sharing  each  other's  distress  the 
husband  and  wife  prayed  together  and  com- 
mitted themselves  wholly  to  the  care  of  their 
watchful  God,  and  by  and  by  peace  came 
to  their  troubled  spirits.  "  Although  I  have 
cast  them  far  off  among  the  heathen,  and  al- 
though I  have  scattered  them  among  the 
countries,  yet  will  I  be  to  them  as  a  little 
sanctuary  in  the  countries  where  they  shall 
come." 

[77] 


Ann  of  Ava 


The  next  morning  preparations  were  made 
to  go  on  shore  to  the  city  they  must  learn 
to  call  home.  Mrs.  Judson  was  not  able  to 
walk,  as  she  had  not  yet  left  her  bed  for 
so  long  as  half  an  hour.  There  was  no  mean^ 
of  conveyance  except  a  horse  which  of  course 
she  could  not  ride.  Some  one's  ingenuity 
found  a  way  at  last  and  she  was  carried  off 
the  ship  in  an  armchair  borne  by  means  of 
bamboo  poles  on  the  shoulders  of  four 
natives. 

Into  the  miserable,  dirty  town,  with  its 
bamboo  and  teak  houses  and  its  muddy 
creeks,  the  coolies  carried  their  precious  bur- 
den, until,  in  a  shady  spot,  they  halted  and 
set  down  the  chair.  Instantly,  crowds  of 
Burmans  flocked  around  to  gaze  at  the 
strange  foreign  woman.  Englishmen  were 
no  novelty  in  the  streets  of  this  Burmese  sea- 
port, but  Englishwomen  were  seldom  seen 
and  were  objects  of  undisguised  curiosity. 
Involuntarily,  JNIrs.  Judson's  head  drooped 
with  sickness  and  weakness,  and  thus  some 
native  women  ventured  near  enough  to  peer 
under  her  bonnet  into  the  pale,  lovely  face. 
To  their  wide-eyed  scrutiny  she  returned  a 
[78] 


Ann  of  Ava 


friendly  smile,  to  which  they  responded  with 
a  loud  laugh.  As  the  coolies  lifted  the  chair 
to  proceed,  the  onlookers  gave  a  lusty  shout 
which  seemed  to  amuse  the  foreigners.  On 
they  went  to  the  Rangoon  custom-house, 
which  was  a  small,  open  shed,  in  which,  upon 
mats  on  the  ground,  sat  several  Burmese 
custom  officials.  Mr.  Judson  was  submitted 
to  a  thorough  search,  after  which  request  was 
made  that  a  Burmese  woman  be  allowed  to 
search  Mrs.  Judson,  to  which  she  obligingly 
agreed.  This  ordeal  over,  the  little  party 
moved  on  to  the  mission  house,  outside  the  city 
gates,  built  by  the  English  Baptists,  which 
was  to  be  home  for  the  American  missionaries. 
Where  now  are  the  green  hills  and  sunny, 
white  homesteads  of  New  England?  Are 
they  but  phantoms  of  memory?  And  where, 
yes,  where  is  that  blithe,  beautiful  girl,  with 
her  rosy  cheeks  and  brown  curls,  who  went 
gaily  forth  to  the  new  academy  in  Bradford, 
her  thoughts  filled  with  the  good  times  in 
which  she  was  always  the  merry  leader?  Is 
she,  too,  a  phantom  of  the  past?  Or  has 
Nancy  Hasseltine  found  her  real  self  in  the 
heroic,  sacrificial  life  of  Ann  Judson? 

[79] 


VIII 

BY  THE  OLD  RANGOON 
PAGODA " 


RANGOON  was  a  city  of  importance 
in  the  Burmese  empire  despite  its 
dilapidated  appearance.  Besides  a 
population  of  many  thousand,  it  was  the  gov- 
ernment city  of  an  extensive  province,  ruled 
by  a  viceroy  who  was  a  high  official  in  the 
kingdom.  Two  miles  north  of  the  city  rose 
one  of  the  landmarks  of  Burma,  the  great 
Rangoon  Pagoda,  or  Golden  Temple  of 
Buddha,  visible  for  twenty  miles  round 
about.  It  was  a  tall,  glittering  structure, 
grotesque  in  its  golden  ornamentations  and 
colossal  in  its  proportions.  At  the  season  of 
the  great  feast  of  Gotama  or  Buddha,  multi- 
tudes of  people  came  in  boats  on  the  river 
from  long  distances  to  worship  and  present 
offerings  at  the  famous  pagoda  which  was 
supposed  to  contain  a  relic  of  Buddha.  Thus 
Rangoon  was  honored,  perhaps  second  to 
Ava,  the  royal  city,  for  its  government  seat 
and  its  sacred  shrine.  In  years  to  come  it 
[80] 


The  Golden  Pagoda 


Ann  of  Ava 


was  destined  to  rank  among  the  first  seaports 
of  the  Orient,  because  of  its  commanding 
location  upon  a  branch  of  the  great  Irawadi 
river.  Yet,  in  1813,  for  all  its  governmental 
prestige,  for  all  its  pretentious  pagoda,  it 
was  still  a  miserable,  dirty,  insanitary  town, 
with  its  glorious  possibilities  of  navigation 
and  vegetation  unutilized,  and  even  im- 
imagined. 

One  day  Ann  Judson  climbed  the  flight 
of  steps  leading  to  the  pagoda  and  was  al- 
lowed to  walk  about  the  platform.  The  scene 
appeared  to  her  like  fairyland  run  wild.  The 
enchanted  castles  and  ruined  abbej^s  which 
haunted  the  images  of  story-books  she  had 
read  seemed  to  come  to  life  before  her  eyes. 
Fantastic  images  of  Buddha,  of  angels  and 
demons,  elephants  and  lions,  added  a  savor 
of  barbaric  picturesqueness. 

Sometimes,  as  IMrs.  Judson  looked  up  at 
the  towering  structure  from  the  distance  of 
her  own  home  outside  the  city  gates,  the 
polished  spire  among  the  trees  suggested  the 
white  steeples  of  Xew  England.  Then 
would  come  a  swift  realization  of  the  awful 
distance,  not  only  in  miles,  but  much  more 

[81] 


Ann  of  Ava 


in  character,  between  the  New  England 
church  and  the  Burmese  pagoda.  Just  as 
the  meeting-house  was  the  symbol  of  the 
simple,  straightforward  life  of  the  early 
American  settlers,  so  this  grotesque  fane  was 
the  symbol  of  the  falsehood  and  degradation 
of  the  inhabitants  of  the  ancient  East. 

In  the  streets  and  outskirts  of  Rangoon  the 
two  American  residents  found  sufficient  evi- 
dence of  the  wretched  condition  of  the  Bur- 
mese people.  Many  sick  and  diseased  folk 
begged  daily  their  few  grains  of  rice  and 
crept  back  to  their  only  habitation,  a  piece 
of  cloth  stretched  on  four  bamboos  under- 
neath a  shade-tree.  Others  bowed  under  a 
heavy  yoke  of  toil,  earning  thereby  but  a 
meager  pittance  the  larger  part  of  which 
was  snatched  away  by  a  greedy  government. 
It  was  part  of  the  government  system  to  pay 
no  fixed  salaries  to  its  officers  but  to  expect 
them  to  extort  by  taxation  from  the  people 
the  means  for  a  luxurious  living.  The  vice- 
roy, or  governor  of  a  province,  was  popularly 
known  as  an  "  Eater,"  since  his  function 
seemed  to  be  to  devour  the  possessions  of  his 
subjects.  Each  petty  officer  divided  liis  spoil 
[82] 


Ann  of  Ava 


with  the  viceroy,  and  he  in  turn  with  the  king, 
whose  revenues  were  unfailing. 

The  king's  word  was  absokite  law  in 
Burma,  so  that  even  a  high  official  might  be 
beheaded  at  a  moment's  notice.  At  one  time 
an  officer  of  the  highest  rank  was  seized  by 
the  public  executioner  and  laid  on  the  ground 
by  the  side  of  the  road  with  a  heavy  weight 
upon  his  chest  and  the  meridian  sun  blazing 
relentlessly  upon  him.  After  the  king's  wrath 
was  thus  appeased  the  man  was  restored  to 
his  former  high  position.  The  only  way  to 
escape  punishment,  whether  innocent  or 
guilty,  was  to  pay  large  bribes  to  the  viceroy. 
Thus  everj^body  was  afraid  of  everybody  else, 
and  consequently  nobody  told  the  truth. 
"  We  cannot  live  without  telling  lies,"  they 
said. 

Robberies  were  outrageously  daring  and 
frequent,  especially  in  times  of  famine,  when 
almost  every  night  houses  were  broken  into 
and  thefts  or  murders  committed.  The  mis- 
sion house,  where  the  Judsons  lived,  was  par- 
ticularly exposed  to  attacks  of  robbers  and 
wild  beasts  because  of  its  location  outside  the 
city  walls.    Moreover,  in  the  vicinity  was  the 

[83] 


Ann  of  Ava 


place  of  public  execution  and  of  deposit  for 
the  refuse  of  the  city.  It  was  a  gruesome 
locality,  but  the  immediate  surroundings  of 
the  house  were  unexpectedly  pleasant.  Be- 
longing to  the  property  was  an  enclosed  gar- 
den abounding  in  delicious  fruits,  such  as 
oranges,  bananas,  guavas,  pineapples,  and  the 
jack-fruit  and  bread-fruit.  The  house  itself 
was  built  of  teak-wood  and,  though  left  in 
an  unfinished  style  inside,  was  large  and 
fairly  convenient. 

It  was  on  a  July  morning  in  1813  when 
the  young  American  missionary  walked  be- 
side the  impromptu  conveyance  which  carried 
his  sick  wife  from  the  ship  Georgianna  to  the 
mission  house  outside  the  gates  of  Rangoon. 
There  was  but  one  other  missionary  in  Burma 
at  the  time,  Felix  Carey,  son  of  the  great 
William  Carey  of  Serampore.  He  and  his 
family  occupied  the  Rangoon  mission  prop- 
erty, though  during  the  summer  when  the 
Judsons  arrived  he  was  away  in  Ava  on 
business  for  the  king.  Mrs.  Carey  was  a 
native  of  Rangoon  and  she,  with  her  two 
children,  received  the  new  missionaries  into 
her  home.  She  could  speak  but  little  English, 
[84] 


■ 

I 

-  -    ^ 

1 

- 

1 

1 

^ 

1 

1 

Ik  J 

1 

^^^^^^f^j^Mh^SkitiK^^ik^H 

■ 

^^_l^^__P  . 

H^K^II 

■ 

A  Burmese  House 


Ann  of  Ava 


so  friendly  conversation  did  not  brighten  their 
first  days  in  a  strange  land.  Moreover,  it 
was  a  difficult  task  for  an  Eastern  woman  to 
create  the  home  comforts  for  a  Western 
woman  trained  to  such  a  different  mode  of 
life.  To  Mrs.  Judson,  accustomed  to  the 
savory  cooking  of  New  England,  the  Bur- 
mese food  was  a  daily  trial.  Bread  and  but- 
ter and  potatoes  were  constantly  missed,  and 
the  rice  and  milk  and  curried  fowl  which 
formed  the  staple  diet  were  always  unsatisfy- 
ing. Yet,  "  instead  of  mourning  that  we  have 
no  more  of  the  comforts  of  life,  we  have  great 
reason  to  be  thankful  that  we  have  so  many," 
wrote  the  undaunted  Ann.  Considering  the 
handicaps  of  food,  climate,  and  discomforts, 
INIrs.  Judson  recovered  her  health  with  sur- 
prising rapidity,  and  never  at  any  time  did 
the  man  or  woman  become  shaken  in  their 
firm  intention  to  remain  in  heathen  Burma. 
As  Mr.  Judson  said,  "  we  soon  began  to  find 
that  it  was  in  our  hearts  to  live  and  die  with 
the  Burmans."  Through  the  many  vicissi- 
tudes of  the  past  year  and  a  half  they  had 
learned  the  lesson  that  God  is  always  on  the 
side  of  those  who  do  their  duty,  and  that  his 

[85] 


Ann  of  Ava 


help    is    mightier    than    any    human    aid    or 
human  need. 

Immediately  upon  settling  in  their  new 
home,  Mr.  and  ]\Irs.  Judson  began  to  study 
the  Burmese  language,  which,  as  a  study,  was 
worse  than  higher  mathematics,  Sanskrit,  and 
Hebrew  put  together.  To  learn  a  dead  lan- 
guage like  Greek  or  Latin,  or  a  living  lan- 
guage like  French  or  German,  as  it  is  taught 
in  school  or  college  to-day,  is  like  kinder- 
garten play  compared  with  mastering  a  liv- 
ing, Oriental  language,  mastering  it  until  it 
is  as  familiar  as  your  native  speech.  ^lore- 
over,  to  attempt,  as  the  Judsons  did,  to  ac- 
quire a  language  without  an  adequate  dic- 
tionary or  grammar  or  even  a  teacher  who 
understands  a  word  of  your  own  speech,  and 
with  dried  palm  leaves  covered  with  obscure 
scratches  your  only  text-book,  such  a  task 
might  well  be  reckoned  among  the  twelve 
labors  of  Hercules.  After  studying  Burmese 
for  more  than  a  year,  INIr.  Judson  still  insisted 
that  if  he  had  his  choice  of  being  examined 
in  a  Burmese  book  or  in  a  book  in  the  French 
language  which  he  had  studied  for  about  two 
months,  he  would  without  the  least  hesitation 
[86] 


Ann  of  Ava 


choose  the  French.  So  much  for  the  intricacy 
of  the  Burmese  language! 

When  the  native  teacher  first  came  to  the 
mission  house  he  rebelled  against  accepting 
the  missionary's  wife  as  a  pupil.  In  his 
country  a  teacher's  skill  was  considered 
wasted  if  bestowed  upon  such  an  inferior 
being  as  woman.  But  when  he  saw  that  the 
husband  was  as  eager  to  have  his  wife  taught 
as  himself,  the  teacher  changed  his  tactics. 
From  seven  in  the  morning  until  ten  at  night 
the  two  determined  students  applied  them- 
selves to  their  task,  going  to  bed  as  tired  as 
they  had  ever  been  in  all  their  lives. 

Every  day  and  all  day  they  studied  and 
studied,  their  only  recreation  being  a  walk 
in  the  garden  or  adjoining  village,  their 
only  society  found  in  each  other.  No  word 
from  home  had  yet  reached  them  and  they 
had  been  absent  a  year  and  a  half.  As  fam- 
ished as  the  starving  people  they  saw  about 
them  were  they  when  at  last,  a  whole  year 
later, — two  years  and  a  half  after  leaving 
America^ — the  first  home  letter  was  laid  in 
their  hands!  Mrs.  Judson  was  the  only  woman 
in  the  Burmese  empire  who  could  speak  Eng- 

[87] 


Ann  of  Ava 


lish,  and  of  course  there  were  no  Christians 
outside  the  mission  household  in  the  entire 
country  of  perhaps  eight  milHon  people.  This 
was  the  situation  in  which  the  woman  found 
herself  who,  only  a  few  years  before,  had  been 
the  merrymaker  of  Bradford,  the  girl  whose 
beauty  and  cleverness  were  bywords  in  the 
valley  of  the  Merrimac.  "  Exposed  to  rob- 
bers by  night  and  invaders  by  day,"  wrote 
this  same  girl  in  her  journal,  dated  Rangoon, 
August  8,  1813,  "  yet  we  both  unite  in  saying 
we  never  were  happier,  never  more  contented 
in  any  situation,  than  the  present.  We  feel 
that  this  is  the  post  to  which  God  hath  ap- 
pointed us;  that  we  are  in  the  path  of  duty; 
and  in  a  situation,  which,  of  all  others,  pre- 
sents the  most  extensive  field  of  usefulness." 

On  the  19th  of  September,  1813,  the  two 
young  missionaries,  man  and  wife,  partook 
together  of  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's 
Supper,  just  as  Samuel  and  Harriet  Newell 
had  united  in  the  sacred  service  in  the  Isle 
of  France  the  Sabbath  before  Harriet's  death. 
Thus,  in  the  mission  house  of  Rangoon,  with 
two  lonely  foreigners  as  participants,  was 
born  the  Christian  Church  of  Burma  which 
[88] 


Ann  of  Ava 


to-day,  a  hundred  years  later,  numbers  sixty- 
five  thousand  people  in  its  membership  and 
over  nine  hundred  church  organizations. 

Among  her  early  experiences  in  Rangoon 
one  of  the  most  entertaining  befell  Mrs.  Jud- 
son  on  the  day  she  made  her  first  call  upon 
the  wife  of  the  viceroy,  introduced  by  a 
French  lady  who  lived  in  the  city  and  was  a 
frequent  visitor  at  the  government  house. 
When  the  two  guests  arrived  lier  highness 
had  not  yet  arisen  and  they  must  await  her 
pleasure.  JNIeantime,  the  secondary  wives  of 
the  viceroy  diverted  and  amused  them.  They 
gathered  like  so  many  children  around  the 
two  foreigners,  examining  their  clothes,  try- 
ing on  their  gloves  and  bonnets  and  mani- 
festing the  most  absurd  curiosity. 

At  last  the  vice-reine  appeared  clad  in  rich 
Burmese  attire  and  smoking  a  long,  silver 
pipe.  As  she  entered  the  room  the  other 
wives  retreated  to  a  respectful  distance  and 
crouched  on  the  floor,  not  daring  to  speak 
unless  addressed.  The  honored  first  wife 
went  forward  to  greet  her  guests  and  looked 
interestedly  into  the  face  of  the  beautiful 
stranger,  the  wife  of  the  American  teacher. 

[89] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Graciously  she  took  her  by  the  hand  and 
led  her  to  a  seat  upon  the  mat  where  she  sat 
herself.  One  of  her  women  in  waiting  pre- 
sented a  bunch  of  flowers  and  the  vice-reine 
removed  several  blossoms  and  ornamented 
Mrs.  Judson's  bonnet.  She  then  plied  her 
with  many  questions,  especially  concerning 
herself  and  her  husband.  Was  she  the  first 
wife,  meaning  was  she  the  highest  among  the 
many  wives  she  supposed  Mr.  Judson  pos- 
sessed as  did  her  husband?  Did  they  intend 
remaining  long  in  the  country? 

As  they  talked,  the  viceroy  himself  made 
a  pompous  entry  into  the  room.  ^Irs.  Jud- 
son literally  trembled  as  she  saw  the  huge, 
savage-looking  man,  with  his  long,  heavy 
robe  and  his  spear  large  enough  for  Goliath 
of  Gath.  This  ferocious  being  was  not  only 
the  ruler  of  their  city,  but  a  man  high  in 
favor  at  the  proud  court  of  Ava,  a  man 
who  had  only  to  nod  his  head  and  his  sub- 
jects were  pardoned  or  beheaded.  Yet  he 
too  greeted  the  American  lady  with  surpris- 
ing graciousness,  and  asked  her  if  she  would 
drink  some  rum  or  wine.  As  the  guests  rose 
to  depart,  the  vice-reine  again  took  Mrs. 
[90] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Judson's  hand,  assuring  her  that  she  was 
happy  to  see  her  and  bidding  her  come  every 
day.  She  then  escorted  her  visitors  to  the 
door,  where  they  made  their  salaams  and 
went  away,  the  ordeal  of  a  state  visit  in 
Burma  over  for  that  time.  Mrs.  Judson  had 
decided  to  make  this  call  hoping  thereby  to 
gain  a  friendly  acquaintance  with  the  vice- 
reine, which,  in  case  of  trouble  with  the  Bur- 
mans,  would  admit  her  to  the  wife  when  Mr. 
Judson  might  be  refused  access  to  so  august 
a  personage  as  the  viceroy  himself.  It  re- 
mains to  be  seen  how  the  charm  of  per- 
sonality which  was  Mrs.  Judson's  heritage 
from  girlhood  won  for  her  and  her  husband 
marvelous  favors  from  the  haughty  nobility 
of  Burma. 

As  a  further  precaution  against  danger  in 
those  unsettled  times,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Judson 
concluded,  after  six  months'  residence  in  the 
outskirts,  to  move  into  a  house  within  the 
city  wall.  By  so  doing  they  would  not  only 
escape  unnecessary  peril  of  robbers,  but  would 
come  in  closer  contact  with  the  people.  Only 
seven  days  after  they  left  the  mission  house 
a  band  of  fifteen  or  twenty  desperate  men, 

[91] 


Ann  of  Ava 


armed  with  knives,  spears,  and  guns,  attacked 
a  house  in  the  neighborhood,  stabbed  the 
owner,  and  departed  with  everything  upon 
which  they  could  lay  their  hands.  The  vice- 
roy was  so  enraged  at  this  bold  plunder  that 
he  dispatched  a  chief  officer  with  three  hun- 
dred men  to  run  down  the  thieves,  with  the 
result  that  seven  robbers  were  put  to  death 
in  most  brutal  fashion  at  the  place  of  public 
execution. 

Two  months  after  this  consternation  spread 
through  the  city,  another  alarming  event 
made  the  missionaries  realize  the  uncertainty 
of  existence  in  a  heathen  city.  On  a  Sunday 
morning  in  March  they  walked  out  to  the 
mission  house  to  spend  the  day  in  quiet  wor- 
ship, as  was  their  weekly  habit.  As  they 
reached  the  house,  a  servant  met  them  with 
the  news  that  a  fire  was  raging  near  the  town. 
They  hurried  to  the  spot  and  found  several 
houses  burning  briskly  and  the  flames  travel- 
ing in  straight  course  toward  the  city.  No 
efforts  whatsoever  were  made  to  extinguish 
the  fire,  so  there  was  reason  to  suppose  the 
whole  town  would  be  consumed.  They  has- 
tened to  the  gates  in  order  to  enter  the  city 
[92] 


Ann  of  Ava 


and  return  to  their  house  in  time  to  remove 
their  belongings,  but  lo,  the  gates  were  tightly 
closed!  The  poor,  terrified  people  had  shut 
the  gates  imagining,  like  foolish  children,  that 
they  could  thus  shut  out  the  flames,  even 
though  gates  and  walls  were  made  wholly  of 
wood.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Judson  waited  per- 
sistently until  at  last  the  gates  were  opened, 
and  they  hurried  home  to  gather  up  their  pos- 
sessions and  transfer  them  swiftly  to  the 
mission  house  beyond  the  zone  of  danger.  All 
day  the  fire  burned  and  burned  until  walls, 
gates,  and  houses  innumerable  were  destroyed, 
and  thousands  of  families  were  shelterless. 

Thus,  fire  and  robbers  and  dangers  un- 
dreamed surrounded  the  two  missionaries. 
But  they  went  about  the  day's  work  undis- 
mayed. The  golden  shrine  of  Buddha,  the 
old  Rangoon  pagoda,  looked  indifferently 
down  upon  the  confused,  distressed  life  of 
the  people  in  the  city,  a  silent  witness  of  the 
powerlessness  of  Buddhism  to  save  its  fol- 
lowers. In  the  hearts  of  the  two  strangers 
in  their  midst  burned  the  message  of  a  God 
of  love  who  alone  could  redeem  the  people  of 
Burma  from  bondage. 

[93] 


IX 
CHILDREN'S  VOICES 


IT  was  a  January  day  in  1815,  and  prep- 
arations for  departure  were  being  made 
in  the  Judson  household  in  Rangoon. 
Who  could  be  going  away,  and  where?  Was 
it  possible  that  they  were  both  leaving  Burma, 
having  given  up  the  mission  as  a  hopeless 
task?  That  did  not  seem  likely,  and  more- 
over the  house  was  in  its  usual  condition,  its 
furnishings  undisturbed.  One  small  trunk 
stood  ready  for  removal  to  the  ship,  and 
presently  Mrs.  Judson  came  in  dressed  for  a 
journey.  Evidently  she  was  the  traveler,  and 
her  husband  was  to  be  left  behind.  Never 
since  their  marriage  had  they  been  parted  for 
any  length  of  time,  and  the  peculiar  circum- 
stances of  their  isolated  life  had  made  them 
unusually  dependent  upon  each  other.  Now, 
however,  they  must  face  a  separation  of  two 
or  three  months  at  least,  and  the  prospect 
was  doleful  indeed. 

Mrs.  Judson  was  about  to  sail  for  Madras 
to   consult   a   physician,    as   her   health   was 
[94] 


Ann  of  Ava 


breaking  down  under  the  climate  and  priva- 
tions of  Burma,  and  no  medical  help  was 
available  there.  She  had  refused  to  permit 
her  husband  to  accompany  her,  as  the  new  mis- 
sion would  suffer  too  much  from  the  absence 
of  them  both.  They  were  just  beginning  to 
make  themselves  understood  in  the  Burmese 
language,  and  a  few  people  were  turning  a 
listening  ear  to  the  story  of  a  God  who  cared, 
though  they  but  dimly  comprehended  the 
meaning  of  the  strangely  beautiful  message. 
These  first  signs  of  a  harvest  to  come  were 
too  precious  to  neglect,  and  the  language 
must  be  all  the  more  arduously  studied  in 
order  to  make  the  story  plain  to  the  bewil- 
dered people. 

When  it  was  decided  that  Mrs.  Judson 
must  go  to  JMadras,  she  and  her  husband 
ventured  one  day  into  the  presence  of  the 
viceroy  of  Rangoon  with  an  unusual  petition. 
They  offered  a  small  present,  as  was  custom- 
ary in  Burma  when  seeking  a  favor  from 
those  in  authority.  The  viceroy  looked  at 
their  gift  and  inquired  their  business,  where- 
upon Mr.  Judson  made  bold  to  ask  if  a 
Burmese  woman  might  be  allowed  to  travel 

[96] 


Ann  of  Ava 


with  Mrs.  Judson  across  the  Bay  of  Bengal 
to  INIadras.  This  was  indeed  an  extraordi- 
nary request,  for  did  not  the  Burmese  law 
prohibit  the  departure  of  a  native  woman 
from  the  country?  Yet,  marvelous  to  relate, 
the  viceroy  turned  instantly  to  his  writer  and 
bade  him  make  out  an  official,  order,  giving 
the  desired  permit  and  eliminating  all  ex- 
pense. It  may  be  that  something  of  the 
indomitable  courage  shining  in  the  eyes  of 
the  frail  woman  before  him  appealed  to  the 
heart  of  the  arrogant  Burmese  ruler  and 
moved  him  to  show  such  amazing  condescen- 
sion. At  any  rate  the  husband  and  wife, 
as  they  went  away  from  the  government 
house,  felt  humbly  grateful  to  God  for  this 
encouragement  at  the  outset  of  the  journey. 

The  second  dread  was  the  thought  of  re- 
peating that  voyage  across  the  Bay  of  Bengal 
which  in  the  summer  of  1813  had  brought 
such  unforgetable  distress.  Here,  again, 
difficulties  vanished,  thanks  to  the  gallant 
thoughtfulness  of  the  ship's  captain.  Not 
only  did  he  provide  every  necessity  for  his  in- 
valid passenger,  but  at  the  end  of  the  voyage 
refused  to  accept  payment  for  her  passage. 
[96] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Kindnesses  on  every  side  smoothed  the 
way  for  the  traveler,  and  none  the  less  in 
Madras,  where  Ann  Judson  was  well  re- 
membered. It  was  nearly  two  years  since 
she  first  came  to  Madras,  there  to  be  con- 
fronted with  the  horrible  possibility  of  a 
home  in  Burma,  that  countr}'^  of  which  she 
said  she  had  heard  such  "  frightful  accounts." 
Though  the  prospect  sent  a  shiver  to  her  soul 
she  raised  no  protest,  because,  as  people  said 
of  her,  her  loyal  resolve  was  to  go  anywhere 
for  Christ.  Such  steadfastness  is  not  lightly 
forgotten.  When  she  came  again  to  Madras 
her  old  friends  received  her  into  their  homes 
and  many  delighted  to  do  her  honor.  After 
a  stay  of  six  weeks  she  prepared  to  return 
to  Burma,  her  health  having  perceptibly  im- 
proved. Before  leaving  she  sent  a  fee  of 
seventy  rupees  to  the  physician  who  had  at- 
tended her,  which  amount  he  promptly  re- 
turned with  the  message  that  he  was  happy 
if  he  had  been  serviceable  to  her. 

To  Rangoon  again,  and  how  eager  is  the 
anticipation  compared  with  the  dreary  fore- 
bodings of  the  first  voyage  to  Burma!  But 
who  is  this  new,  small  passenger  who  goes 

[97] 


Ann  of  Ava 


with  Mrs.  Judson  on  board  the  vessel  in 
Madras  roads?  A  little  girl  stands  by  her 
side  on  the  ship's  deck  and  waves  good-by  to 
the  friends  on  shore.  Is  she  really  going 
home  with  JNIrs.  Judson,  and  who  can  she  be? 
The  mystery  is  easily  solved  if  you  will  go 
back  and  meet  some  of  Mrs.  Judson's  friends 
in  JMadras.  During  her  two  visits  to  the  city 
she  had  experienced  the  kindness  lavished 
upon  missionaries  by  a  young  man  named 
Von  Someren,  son  of  a  major  in  the  Dutch 
army.  Often  he  would  go  down  to  the  ships 
lying  in  Madras  roads  and  insist  upon  claim- 
ing the  missionaries  who  arrived  as  his  guests. 
He  would  entertain  them  in  his  spacious 
house,  advise' them  in  their  business  negotia- 
tions, and  speed  them  on  their  way  up  coun- 
try or  across  seas.  In  his  home  lived  three 
orphan  children,  small  cousins  who  had  been 
left  to  his  guardianship  after  the  death  of 
their  parents.  The  youngest,  Emily  Von 
Someren,  became  very  dear  to  Mrs.  Judson 
and  when  she  thought  of  returning  to  Burma 
she  longed  to  take  the  little  girl  with  her. 
One  day  she  made  known  her  desire  to  INIr. 
Von  Someren,  and  willingly  he  entrusted  his 
198] 


Ann  of  Ava 


ward,  then  seven  years  old,  to  the  care  of 
the  woman  he  admired  so  deeply.  Thus  it 
came  about  that  a  small  companion  sailed 
back  to  Burma  with  IVIrs.  Judson. 

JMeanwhile,  over  in  Rangoon  a  young  man 
was  working  unceasingly,  that  he  might  in 
some  measure  forget  the  loneliness  of  his  de- 
serted home.  From  early  morning  until  late 
evening  he  gave  himself  to  language-study, 
his  only  respite  being  a  conversation  with  the 
natives,  which  was  really  study  in  another 
form.  There  was  scarcely  a  single  person  in  the 
Burmese  empire  with  whom  he  could  talk 
sympathetically  as  friend  to  friend,  and  with 
whom  he  could  enter  into  the  deeper  fellow- 
ship of  prayer.  His  loneliness  was  enormous, 
and  accentuated  by  contrast  the  richness  of 
his  companionship  with  the  wife  who  shared 
so  completely  his  interests  and  his  great  ab- 
sorbing purpose.  When  her  ship  should  sail 
into  the  harbor,  the  joy  of  living  would  come 
again  into  his  heart. 

Thus,  when  the  spring  days  returned,  new 
signs  of  life  and  activity  returned  also  to  the 
mission  house  in  Rangoon.  A  woman's  step, 
buoyant   with   the   rebound    of   health,    was 

[99] 


Ann  of  Ava 


heard  about  the  house  and  tones  of  a  childish 
voice  reached  the  open,  veranda-like  room 
where  Mr.  Judson  and  his  teacher  sat  at 
study.  The  dry  old  Burmese  language  be- 
came newly  vitalized  by  the  accompaniment  of 
these  homelike  sounds.  Mrs.  Judson  had  long 
ago  taken  upon  herself  the  entire  management 
of  the  household,  that  her  husband  might  be 
left  free  for  uninterrupted  study.  Her  own 
lessons  thus  became  interspersed  with  fre- 
quent digressions  into  household  affairs,  but 
these  very  digressions  proved  in  the  end  her 
quickest  means  of  acquiring  a  vocabulary. 
Often  in  her  contact  with  the  servants  she 
would  be  obliged  to  talk  Burmese  all  day. 
The  small  Emily  picked  up  Burmese  words 
and  phrases  day  by  day,  until  she  too  could 
speak  the  language  and  sing  the  songs.  Al- 
though she  lived  in  the  country  but  six  years, 
yet  to  the  end  of  her  life  she  could  speak 
and  write  Burmese.  One  hymn  which  she 
frequently  sang  in  after  life  always  brought 
the  tears  to  her  eyes,  though  she  could  never 
tell  why. 

So  those  busy  days  of  spring  and  summer 
led  on  to  an  autumn  of  surpassing  happiness. 
[100] 


Ann  of  Ava 


As  a  forerunner  of  the  great  joy  before  them, 
good  news  came  traveling  across  the  seas 
from  America  to  bring  thanksgiving  into  the 
little  household  in  Rangoon.  At  last,  after 
three  years  of  waiting,  came  the  assurance 
that  the  Baptist  churches  of  America  had 
accepted  Mr.  and  ]Mrs.  Judson  as  their  first 
missionaries  and  assumed  responsibility  for 
their  support.  A  burden  also  was  lifted  from 
the  English  missionaries  at  Serampore,  who 
all  this  time  had  been  supplying  funds  for 
the  two  Americans,  according  to  their  gen- 
erous promise,  but  out  of  meager  resources. 
Not  in  vain  had  Luther  Rice  sailed  back 
to  his  native  land  to  tell  the  story  of  what 
his  eyes  had  seen  in  the  needy  countries  of 
the  Orient.  In  INIay,  1814,  a  second  history- 
making  assembly  had  been  held  in  the  United 
States  similar  to  the  eventful  gathering  in 
Bradford  in  June,  1810.  From  JNIassachu- 
setts  to  Georgia  the  Baptist  ministers  had 
rallied  their  forces  in  conference  at  Philadel- 
phia and  had  there  organized  the  second  for- 
eign missionary  society  of  America,  known 
originally  as  the  Triennial  Convention,  later 
as  the  American  Baptist  Foreign  Missionary 

[101] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Society.  The  new  mission  board  not  only 
guaranteed  support  for  jNIr.  and  JMrs.  Jud- 
son,  but  held  out  the  hope  that  some  glad 
day  other  missionaries  would  be  sent  to  labor 
beside  them.  Perhaps  in  some  wonderful 
future  the  Baptist  denomination  of  America 
might  accept  from  the  hands  of  its  pioneer 
missionaries  the  whole  country  of  Burma  to 
develop  for  the  great  King,  just  as  formerly 
the  governments  of  Europe  received  from  the 
claims  of  their  pioneer  discoverers  whole  terri- 
tories in  North  America  to  develop  for  the 
sovereigns  at  whose  will  they  had  gone  across 
the  Atlantic. 

There  in  the  frontier  home  in  Rangoon 
two  lonely  settlers  were  comforted  by  the 
knowledge  that  they  were  not  forgotten  by 
Christians  in  America.  This  glad  sense  of 
relief  prepared  the  way  for  the  blessing  which 
came  into  their  home  on  the  11th  day  of 
September,  when  a  little  son  was  born,  the 
only  child  of  foreign  parents  in  the  city  of 
Rangoon.  Although  no  doctor  or  nurse  could 
be  secured  for  the  young  mother,  her  hus- 
band ministering  to  all  her  needs,  yet  two 
weeks'  time  found  her  writing  home,  "  Since 
[102] 


Ann  of  Ava 


the  birth  of  our  Httle  son  my  health  has  been 
much  better  than  for  two  years  before.  I 
feel  now  almost  in  a  new  state  of  existence. 
Our  hands  are  full,  and  though  our  prospects 
in  regard  to  the  immediate  conversion  of  the 
Burmans  are  dark,  yet  our  trust  in  God  is 
strong."  In  that  same  letter,  after  wishing 
that  her  mother  might  see  her  sprightly  little 
boy,  she  went  on  to  say,  "  We  hope  his  life 
may  be  preserved  and  his  heart  sanctified, 
that  he  may  become  a  missionary  among  the 
Burmans." 

Even  his  name  embodied  his  parents'  hopes 
for  his  manhood,  for  he  was  named  in  mem- 
ory of  a  dauntless  pioneer  missionary  in  the 
New  England  colonies,  Roger  Williams. 
Into  every  day  of  that  autumn  and  winter 
the  baby  Roger,  by  his  sunny  presence, 
brought  something  of  the  spell  and  brightness 
of  Christmas.  He  was  the  plaything,  pet, 
and  cherished  companion  of  his  busy  parents, 
and,  baby  that  he  was,  he  seemed  to  feel  in 
his  little  heart  a  return  of  the  affection  lav- 
ished upon  him.  Often  he  would  lie  for  hours 
on  a  mat  by  Mr.  Judson's  study  table,  con- 
tent if  only  he  could  see  his  father's  face.    If 

[103] 


Ann  of  Ava 


his  mother  or  father  passed  his  cradle  without 
taking  him  up  his  bhie  eyes  would  follow 
them  wistfully  to  the  door,  and  fill  with  tears, 
so  that,  constrained  by  the  sadness  of  that 
little  face,  they  would  have  to  turn  back  to 
the  cradle.  When  study  hours  were  over  they 
hastened  to  find  Roger  to  take  him  into  the 
garden  for  exercise  and  for  their  own  joy- 
ous recreation.  There  was  no  such  specter 
as  loneliness  existent  when  the  baby  was  their 
companion. 

Thus  the  winter  days  sped  happily  by,  but 
when  spring  came  again  anxiety  crept  grad- 
ually into  the  mother's  heart.  Every  night 
a  touch  of  fever  flushed  the  little  body,  but 
since  the  daytime  found  him  apparently 
healthy  and  active,  they  hoped  the  fever 
would  disappear  with  that  bugbear  of  baby- 
hood, teething.  One  morning,  after  his 
mother  had  taken  him  from  liis  cradle,  he 
coughed  violently  for  half  an  hour.  A  high 
fever  followed  and  continued  through  the  day, 
though  giving  place  on  the  morrow  to  re- 
freshing sleep.  The  third  day  the  cough  and 
fever  returned  and  a  Portuguese  priest,  the 
only  person  of  medical  pretensions  in  the 
[104f] 


Ann  of  Ava 


place,  was  summoned.  He  prescribed  some 
simple  remedies,  but  they  brought  no  relief 
to  the  strange  distress  in  the  baby's  throat, 
which  caused  such  hard  breathing  it  could  be 
heard  some  distance  away.  During  the  fourth 
night  the  mother  sat  beside  her  sick  child 
until  two  o'clock,  when  she  was  so  fatigued 
that  the  father  relieved  her  watch.  He  gave 
the  little  fellow  a  drink  of  milk  which  he  took 
with  eagerness  and  then  fell  asleep  in  his 
cradle.  For  half  an  hour  he  slept  quietly, 
when,  without  a  struggle,  his  breathing  ceased 
and  the  baby  Roger  was  gone. 

In  the  afternoon  of  that  same  day  a  pro- 
cession of  forty  or  fifty  Burmese  and  Portu- 
guese followed  the  heart-broken  parents  to  a 
little  grave  in  an  enclosure  of  mango  trees 
in  the  garden.  All  who  knew  the  "  little 
white  child,"  as  the  vice-reine  called  him, 
strove  to  express  their  sympathy.  A  few 
days  later  her  highness  came  with  all  the 
pomp  of  her  high  position  to  proffer  con- 
dolences. If  the  degree  of  her  sympathy  was 
proportioned  to  the  size  of  her  retinue,  it  was 
large  indeed,  for  two  hundred  officers  and 
attendants  followed  in  her  train.     When  the 

[105] 


Ann  of  Ava 


sad-faced  mother  came  to  greet  her  guest,  the 
vice-reine  smote  her  breast,  saj^ing,  "  Why  did 
you  not  send  me  word  that  I  might  have 
come  to  the  funeral?"  Mrs.  Judson  replied 
that  she  did  not  think  of  anj^thing  at  the  time, 
so  great  was  her  distress.  Whereupon  the 
Burmese  noblewoman  tried  sincerely  to  com- 
fort a  sister  woman  in  grief,  bidding  her  not 
to  weep,  turning  also  to  Mr.  Judson  and 
cautioning  him  lest  the  sorrow  destroy  his 
health,  which  all  too  evidently  was  on  the 
decline.  Not  forgetting  her  duties  as  hostess, 
Mrs.  Judson  served  her  guest  with  tea,  sweet- 
meats, and  cake,  which  seemed  to  give  her 
pleasure.  All  the  while  she  was  longing  for 
the  chance  to  serve  the  deep  life  needs  of  the 
Burmese  vice-reine  who,  in  all  her  visits  to 
the  government  house,  had  manifested  such  a 
friendly  spirit,  such  a  cordial  welcome  to- 
ward the  wife  of  the  American  teacher.  If 
only  she  could  return  her  kindness  by  leading 
her  to  accept  the  greatest  of  all  gifts,  even 
God's  Christmas  Gift  to  his  human  children! 
One  lovely  spring  day,  a  short  time  after 
the  vice-reine's  call  at  the  mission  house,  a 
gracious  invitation  proceeded  from  her  high- 
[106] 


Ann  of  Ava 


ness  to  the  American  family  in  Rangoon. 
Would  they  become  her  guests  on  a  trip  into 
the  country  to  benefit  their  health  and  to 
"  cool  their  minds,"  as  she  expressed  it?  They 
readily  consented  and  presently  a  tall  ele- 
phant with  a  howdah  upon  his  back,  appeared 
at  the  gate  of  the  mission  house  for  their 
conveyance.  A  long,  imposing  procession 
formed  and  wended  its  way  toward  the  woods. 
Thirty  men,  with  spears  and  guns  in  their 
hands  and  red  caps  on  their  heads,  led  the 
march.  Directly  behind  them  walked  a  mon- 
strous elephant  caparisoned  with  a  gilt  how- 
dah, in  which  sat  the  tall,  graceful  figure  of 
the  vice-reine,  clad  in  red  and  white  silk.  In 
the  place  of  honor  behind  her  ladyship  rode 
the  American  guests  followed  by  three  or 
foin*  elephants  carrying  the  vice-reine's  son 
and  government  officers.  At  the  rear  came 
a  lordly  retinue,  two  or  three  hundred  strong, 
the  men  and  women  retainers  of  the  govern- 
ment house. 

Through  the  woods  the  elephants  trudged 
with  soft,  "  squdgy  "  tread,  breaking  down, 
at  the  command  of  their  drivers,  the  small 
trees  which  obstructed  progress.    In  the  midst 

[107] 


Ann  of  Ava 


of  a  beautiful  garden,  luxuriant  with  wild, 
tropical  growth,  the  procession  halted,  and 
under  a  wide-reaching  banyan  tree  mats  were 
spread  for  hostess  and  guests.  Again  the 
vice-reine  sought  by  every  means  to  divert 
and  entertain  her  guests.  She  gathered  fruit 
and  pared  it,  plucked  flowers  and  knotted 
them  together,  and  presented  these  friendly 
tokens  with  her  own  hands  as  a  mark  of  ex- 
treme favor.  At  dinner  her  cloth  was  laid 
beside  that  of  her  guests  while  she  freely 
dispensed  the  bounty  prepared. 

In  the  evening  the  procession  returned  to 
the  city,  and  a  tall  elephant  stopped  before 
the  mission  house  for  its  riders  to  dismount. 
Since  the  death  of  little  Roger,  homecom- 
ing had  lost  its  keen  zest,  its  poignant  ex- 
pectancy. Yet  out  in  the  fragrant  garden 
was  a  sheltered  spot  which  bound  their 
hearts  more  strongly  than  ever  to  the  land 
of  their  adoption.  There,  underneath  the 
mango  trees,  the  mother  often  sat  and  wept 
by  the  grave  of  her  first-born  child.  But 
even  as  the  tears  fell  she  wrote  to  a  friend 
at  home:  "God  is  the  same  when  he  afflicts 
as  when  he  is  merciful;  just  as  worthy  of 
[108] 


Ann  of  Ava 


our  entire  trust  and  confidence  now  as  when 
he  entrusted  us  with  the  precious  little  gift." 

Meanwhile,  the  little  Dutch  girl,  Emily, 
crept  all  the  more  closely  into  the  hearts  of 
her  adopted  parents  in  their  lonely  life  in 
Rangoon. 


[109] 


X 

ANN'S  DILEMMA 


CHRISTMAS  day  in  a  country  where 
there  is  no  Christmas!  What  a 
mockery  of  the  jovial  old  saint  who 
drives  his  reindeers  down  the  chimneys  of  chil- 
dren's fancies!  Has  he  access  only  to  the 
hearts  and  homes  of  children  of  the  West? 
Oh,  Christmas,  Christmas,  with  your  radiant 
spell  cast  upon  the  winter  days,  where  is  the 
sign  of  your  presence  in  this  Burmese  city, 
where  the  "  temple  bells  are  callin',"  calling 
to  the  worship  of  an  "idol  made  of  mud"? 
In  the  great,  golden  pagoda,  is  there  no  jilace 
for  the  worship  of  a  little  Child  born  in  a 
manger  in  Bethlehem? 

In  the  mission  house  in  Rangoon,  Christ- 
mas, in  the  year  1817,  was  celebrated  by  the 
disturbing  events  of  departure.  Again  the 
little  family  group  was  to  be  broken  by  the 
absence  of  one  of  its  members  on  an  uncer- 
tain, coriipulsory  journey.  Before  sunset, 
Mr.  Judson  would  have  sailed  away  from 
Rangoon,  down  the  Irawadi  river  toward  the 
[110] 


Ann  of  Ava 


sea,  and  then  north  along  the  coast  to  Chitta- 
gong,  a  port  of  Arracan,  belonging  to  the 
dominions  of  the  East  India- Company.  It 
must  be  a  momentous  errand  which  would 
draw  Adoniram  Judson  away  from  Rangoon 
at  this  critical  stage  in  the  development  of 
the  mission. 

No  less  a  motive  than  the  welfare  of  the 
mission  itself  had  impelled  this  curious  jour- 
ney into  an  unknown  region.  After  four 
years  of  preparatory  work,  the  time  had  come 
at  last  for  a  public  proclamation  of  the  gospel 
which  hitherto  the  missionaries  had  expressed 
only  by  their  daily  lives,  by  private  conversa- 
tion, and  recently  by  the  circulation  of  two 
tracts  and  the  book  of  JVIatthew  printed  in 
Burmese.  The  knotty  language  had  become  so 
familiar  to  JNIr.  Judson  that  he  was  now 
ready  to  venture  before  a  critical  native  audi- 
ence. If,  however,  one  Burmese  Christian 
could  stand  by  his  side  and  declare  in  his 
native  tongue  to  his  o^vn  countrymen  the 
beauty  of  the  Christian  religion,  the  appeal 
would  be  a  hundred  times  more  powerful.  As 
yet  there  was  no  avowed  disciple  of  the  Lord 
Christ   among  the   natives   in   Rangoon,    al- 

[111] 


Ann  of  Ava 


though  a  number  had  shown  an  awakening 
interest.  In  the  port  of  Chittagong  were 
said  to  be  several  converts,  the  remnant  of  an 
abandoned  English  mission  in  that  region. 
It  was  likely  that  Mr.  Judson  could  persuade 
one  of  these  native  Christians,  who  spoke  Bur- 
mese, to  return  with  him  to  Rangoon  and  assist 
him  in  his  task  of  public  preaching.  Thus, 
when  it  was  announced  that  a  ship  would 
sail  on  December  25  from  Rangoon  to  Chitta- 
gong, to  return  in  a  few  weeks,  a  unique 
opportunity  seemed  to  have  presented  itself. 
Furthermore,  a  second  purpose  would  be 
accomplished  by  this  sea  voyage  of  about  ten 
days  in  each  direction.  Renewed  vigor  would 
be  imparted  to  Mr.  Judson's  worn-out  body 
and  mind.  For  nearly  two  years  he  had  suf- 
fered acute  pain  in  his  eyes  and  head,  caused 
by  close  study  of  the  puzzling  Burmese  char- 
acters. For  a  period  of  four  months  he  had 
not  been  able  to  read  a  page  in  a  Burmese 
book,  yet,  during  those  very  months,  out  of 
the  knowledge  already  stored  in  his  brain,  he 
had  compiled  a  grammar  of  the  Burmese  lan- 
guage! Twenty  years  later  this  grammar 
was  published  and  pronounced  by  linguists 
[112] 


Ann  of  Ava 


to  be  a  masterpiece  in  its  brevity  and  com- 
pleteness. Once  before  during  his  sickness 
a  sea  voyage  had  been  planned,  but  sudden, 
surprising  news  from  Calcutta  prevented  de- 
parture. A  new  missionary  and  his  wife  had 
just  arrived  from  America  and  would  pro- 
ceed to  Rangoon  by  the  next  boat.  Mrs. 
Judson  would  of  course  remain  at  home  to 
welcome  the  newcomers,  and  an  unexpected 
improvement  in  health  detained  Mr.  Judson 
also. 

In  October,  1816,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Judson 
had  received  into  their  home  the  first  Ameri- 
cans who  had  ever  crossed  their  threshold. 
Such  eager  inquiries  about  the  homeland  as 
filled  those  first  wonderful  days  when  isola- 
tion was  exchanged  for  friendly  companion- 
ship! Mr.  Hough,  the  new  missionary, 
brought  a  timely  present  from  the  mission- 
aries at  Serampore, — a  printing-press,  the 
first  to  be  seen  in  the  Burmese  empire.  So  it 
came  about,  with  Mr.  Hough's  knowledge  of 
printing  and  Mr.  Judson's  knowledge  of 
Burmese,  that  Christian  publications  were 
issued  by  the  hundreds  and  thousands  in  the 
Burmese  language.     Thus  it  also  came  about 

[113] 


Ann  of  Ava 


that  Mrs.  Judson  and  the  small  Emily  were 
left  in  the  midst  of  friends  when  IMr.  Judson 
sailed  away  to  Chittagong,  expecting  to  re- 
turn in  the  space  of  three  months  at  the 
longest. 

The  New  Year  dawned,  bringing  with  it 
tasks  new  and  old.  On  every  Sunday  some 
twenty  or  thirty  Burmese  women  gathered 
regularly  at  the  mission  house  to  listen  to 
Mrs.  Judson  as  she  told  them  new,  wonder- 
ful stories  of  a  God  who  truly  loved  his 
human  children.  Sometimes  their  tongues 
found  ready  questions,  or  else  expressed  an 
intention  to  worship  the  true  God  and  go 
no  more  to  the  idol  temple.  But  their  under- 
standing and  conviction  were  yet  to  be  tested. 

From  the  government  house  came  unfail- 
ing signs  of  good-will  toward  the  American 
residents.  Now  and  then  an  elephant  ap- 
peared before  the  gate  to  convey  them  on 
excursions  with  the  viceroy's  family.  •  Her 
highness,  the  vice-reine,  showed  unmistakable 
affection  for  Mrs.  Judson,  with  whom  she 
had  several  times  permitted  friendly  conver- 
sation upon  the  subject  of  religion.  From 
her  hand  also  she  had  accepted  the  Gospel 
[114] 


Ann  of  Ava 


of  Matthew,  and  the  tract  and  catechism 
recently  printed,  even  commanding  that  one 
of  her  daughters  be  taught  to  memorize  the 
catechism  that  Mrs.  Judson  had  written.  But 
no  further  indication  did  she  give  of  belief 
in  the  new  religion,  though  Mrs.  Judson 
watched  eagerly  for  every  token  of  deepen- 
ing interest. 

The  last  of  January  the  coming  of  a  vis- 
itor brought  surprise  and  joy  to  the  mission 
household.  About  a  year  before,  when  Mr. 
Judson  was  sitting  with  his  teacher  in  his 
veranda-like  room,  a  man  of  very  respectable 
appearance,  attended  by  a  servant,  had 
come  up  the  steps  and  sat  down  before  him. 
After  a  few  preliminaries  the  stranger  asked 
abruptly,  "  How  long  time  will  it  take  me 
to  learn  the  religion  of  Jesus? "  Mr.  Judson 
replied  and  then  proceeded  to  ask  him  how 
he  had  heard  about  Jesus.  The  man  an- 
swered that  he  had  seen  two  little  books.  Mr. 
Judson  then  handed  him  the  tract  and  cate- 
chism, both  of  which  he  recognized  instantly 
and  read  sentences  here  and  there,  remarking 
to  his  servant,  *'  This  is  the  true  God,  this  is 
the  right  way."    "  More  of  this  sort  of  writ- 

[115] 


Ann  of  Ava 


ing,"  was  his  repeated  request,  to  which  Mr. 
Judson  responded  that  he  was  even  then 
translating  a  larger  book  which  would  be 
ready  in  two  or  three  months.  "  But,"  inter- 
posed the  man,  "  have  you  not  a  little  of 
that  book  done  which  you  will  graciously  give 
me  now? "  Mr.  Judson  folded  a  few  pages 
of  his  unfinished  manuscript  and  gave  him  the 
first  five  chapters  of  the  book  of  Matthew. 
Immediately,  his  desire  gratified,  the  man 
rose  and  went  away. 

For  a  year  he  had  not  returned,  though 
Mr.  Judson  heard  through  a  friend  that  he 
was  reading  his  books  "  all  the  day "  and 
showing  them  to  every  one  who  called  upon 
him.  He  had  been  appointed  governor  of  a 
group  of  villages  in  another  region  and  came 
but  seldom  to  Rangoon.  Evidently  upon  his 
first  opportunity  he  had  resorted  to  the  mis- 
sion house.  In  course  of  their  conversation 
Mrs.  Judson  asked  him  if  he  had  become  a 
disciple  of  Jesus  Christ.  "  I  have  not  yet," 
he  replied,  "  but  I  am  thinking  and  reading 
in  order  to  become  one.  I  cannot  yet  destroy 
my  old  mind.  .  .  .  Tell  the  great  teacher 
when  he  returns  that  I  wish  to  see  him, 
[116] 


The  Queen's  Monastery 


Ann  of  Ava 


though  I  am  not  a  disciple  of  Christ."  Hav- 
ing requested  and  obtained  the  remaining 
portion  of  the  Gospel  of  Matthew  and  a 
supply  of  catechisms  and  tracts,  he  and  liis 
attendants  went  away. 

Thus  it  was  that  encouraging  signs  gave 
zest  to  the  activities  of  the  mission,  and  Mrs. 
Judson's  hope  quickened  in  expectation  of 
her  husband's  return.  Any  day,  now,  his  ship 
was  due  in  port,  for  the  time  limit  of  three 
months  had  nearly  expired.  Mrs.  Judson 
scanned  the  horizon  for  the  first  hazy  lines 
of  a  ship's  mast.  One  day  in  INIarch  a  vessel 
did  indeed  come  creeping  into  the  harbor, 
after  twelve  days'  passage  from  Chittagong, 
but  alas,  it  was  not  the  boat  in  which  Mr. 
Judson  had  sailed,  and  it  brought  most 
alarming  news!  Neither  Mr.  Judson  nor 
the  ship  on  which  he  had  left  Rangoon  had 
been  seen  or  heard  of  at  Chittagong!  This 
stray  report  brought  by  a  native  craft  would 
not  have  been  fully  credited  had  it  not  been 
confirmed  by  messages  which  Mrs.  Judson 
received  at  the  same  time  from  friends  in 
Bengal.  Certain  it  was  that  her  husband's 
ship  had  not  reached  its  destination.     Could 

[117] 


Ann  of  Ava 


it  be  that  the  course  had  been  changed  and 
the  ship  was  j'^et  safe  in  some  unknown  waters 
or  port?  This  was  a  possibility,  but  on  the 
other  hand  was  the  grim  specter  which  fre- 
quently loomed  larger  than  a  possibility,  that 
the  ship  on  which  Mr.  Judson  had  sailed  and 
all  on  board  were  lost.  Oh,  to  know  the 
truth,  whatever  the  truth  might  be! 

Into  the  midst  of  this  agonizing  suspense 
came  annoyances  from  an  unexpected  quar- 
ter. An  ugly-sounding  order  was  received 
one  afternoon  bidding  Mr.  Hough  appear 
at  once  at  the  court-house  to  "  give  an  account 
of  himself."  This  gruff  message  w^as  so  to- 
tally unlike  any  communication  hitherto  sent 
by  the  government  that  bewilderment  and 
alarm  spread  quickly  through  the  mission 
household.  ^Ir.  Hough  hastened  to  obey  the 
command,  followed  at  a  distance  by  a  group 
of  frightened  teachers,  servants,  and  other 
adherents  of  the  mission.  As  it  was  late 
when  he  reached  the  court-house  he  was 
merely  commanded  to  give  security  for  his 
presence  early  the  next  morning,  when,  as 
they  remarked  with  fiendish  emphasis,  "  if 
he  did  not  tell  all  the  truth  relative  to  his 
[118] 


Ann  of  Ava 


situation  in  the  country,  they  would  write 
with  his  heart's  blood." 

In  such  a  predicament  ^Irs.  Judson  would 
ordinarily  have  appealed  to  the  vice-reine, 
but  only  a  short  time  before,  the  friendly 
viceroy  and  his  family  had  been  recalled  from 
Rangoon  to  Ava.  His  successor  was  but 
slightly  acquainted  with  the  Judsons,  and 
moreover  his  family  had  been  left  behind  in 
the  royal  city.  It  was  contrary  to  Burmese 
etiquette  for  a  woman  to  appear  at  court  in 
the  absence  of  the  vice-reine,  consequently 
Mrs.  Judson's  tactful  intervention  was  by 
custom  prohibited.  Mr.  Hough  could  not 
speak  Burmese  with  sufficient  ease  to  permit 
him  to  appeal  in  person  to  the  viceroy,  so 
there  was  no  recourse  but  for  him  to  return 
on  the  morrow  to  the  court  session  and  to  the 
uncertain  fate  there  in  store. 

For  two  days  he  was  held  at  the  court- 
house and  forced  to  answer,  through  an  in- 
terpreter, the  most  absurd  questions,  such  as, 
what  were  the  names  of  his  parents,  and  how 
many  suits  of  clothes  did  he  possess,  the  an- 
swers to  which  were  recorded  with  utmost 
formality.     He  was  not  even  allowed  recess 

[119] 


Ann  of  Ava 


long  enough  to  procure  food,  but  was  inces- 
santly subjected  to  examination.  On  Sun- 
day morning  summons  was  again  received 
to  present  himself  at  court  that  the  inquiry 
might  continue.  Exasperated  beyond  endur- 
ance, Mrs.  Judson  determined  to  discover 
whether  or  not  the  viceroy  was  responsible 
for  these  maneuvers,  or  whether  the  subordi- 
nate officers  were  playing  a  shrewd  game  for 
bribes.  Accordingly,  her  teacher  wrote  a 
petition  addressed  to  the  viceroy,  stating  their 
grievances,  including  the  order  to  appear  at 
court  on  their  sacred  day,  and  requesting  that 
"  it  might  be  the  pleasure  of  his  highness  that 
these  molestations  cease." 

With  fine  disregard  of  Burmese  custom 
Mrs.  Judson  prepared  to  go  herself  to  the 
government  house  to  intercede  with  the  vice- 
roy. Accompanied  by  Mr.  Hough  she  en- 
tered the  outer  court  and  fortunately  caught 
the  eye  of  the  viceroy  as  he  sat  in  state  sur- 
rounded by  the  officers  of  his  court.  He 
recognized  her  at  once  and  with  amazing 
condescension  bade  her  come  in  and  make 
known  her  request.  Mrs.  Judson  handed 
the  petition  to  one  of  the  secretaries,  who  was 
[120] 


Ann  of  Ava 


promptly  ordered  to  read  it.  At  its  con- 
clusion the  viceroy  inquired  in  a  stern  voice 
of  the  very  officer  who  had  been  most  aggres- 
sive in  tormenting  Mr.  Hough,  "  Why  the 
examination  of  this  foreign  teacher  had  been 
thus  prolonged?"  At  the  same  time  he  gave 
a  written  order  that  Mr.  Hough  should  not 
be  disturbed  upon  his  sacred  day  and  that 
further  annoyance  should  cease.  Thus  the 
petty  officers  were  foiled  of  their  purpose 
by  an  act  that  they  did  not  dream  a  woman 
would  dare  even  to  attempt. 

"  Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity "  to  a 
brave  spirit  like  Mrs.  Judson,  but  "  ugly  and 
venomous "  was  the  form  of  its  next  ap- 
proach. For  the  first  time  in  the  history  of 
Rangoon  a  furious  epidemic  of  cholera  in- 
vaded the  city,  accelerated  in  its  progress  by 
the  hottest  and  driest  weather  of  the  year. 
Only  the  coming  of  the  rainy  season  would 
be  likely  to  check  the  deadly  march  of  dis- 
ease. From  morning  until  night  the  death 
drum  beat  its  gruesome  lament,  reminding^ 
Mrs.  Judson  and  her  companions  of  their 
imminent  danger,  but  also  of  the  unfailing: 
watchfulness   of   their   God.     In  very   fact^ 

[121] 


Ann  of  Ava 


throughout  the  long  plague,  not  a  person 
within  the  mission  enclosure  was  touched  by 
its  ravages,  though  neighbors  perished  on 
every  side. 

Added  to  the  wail  for  the  dead  was  the 
mad  din  set  up  each  night  to  expel  the  evil 
spirits  who,  the  natives  believed,  stalked  per- 
petually through  the  streets  wantonly  de- 
stroying life.  A  cannon  fired  at  the  govern- 
ment house  gave  the  signal  whereat  every 
Burman  began  to  beat  upon  his  house  with  a 
club  or  anything  that  would  make  a  noise. 
The  uproar  was  hideous,  and  only  a  very 
deaf  or  stubborn  spirit  would  have  refused 
to  depart,  yet  the  disease  remained  as  viru- 
lent as  ever.  To  one  anxious  woman  the 
wail  by  day  and  by  night  was  naught  com- 
pared with  the  low,  mournful  cry  of  her  heart 
for  the  return  of  her  husband.  Where  in 
this  whole  Eastern  world  could  he  be,  and 
when  would  he  come  again  home? 

When  could  he  come?  was  the  next  ques- 
tion to  torture  Mrs.  Judson's  mind.  Already 
rumors  of  war  were  adding  to  the  confusion 
of  disease.  England  was  said  to  be  at  enmity 
with  Burma  and  on  the  verge  of  bombarding 
[122] 


Ann  of  Ava 


the  country.  Was  this  the  reason  that  no 
ships  from  English  ports  had  entered  the 
harbor  in  recent  months?  Did  this  account 
for  the  stealthy  departure,  one  by  one,  of  the 
boats  anchored  at  Rangoon  until  but  a  single 
lonely  craft  was  left?  That  too  would  be  off 
to  Bengal  at  the  first  opportunity,  leaving  the 
missionaries  stranded  in  Rangoon  with  every 
kind  of  unnamed  terror  in  prospect. 

Mr.  Hough  believed  it  to  be  their  duty  to 
escape  while  there  was  yet  opportunity.  ]\Irs. 
Judson,  on  the  other  hand,  was  strongly 
averse  to  leaving  the  one  spot  in  all  the  world 
where  her  husband  knew  she  was  to  be  found. 
To  remain  in  Rangoon  even  in  loneliness,  war, 
and  pestilence  was  her  dominant  desire  and 
her  felt  duty.  Yet  how  could  Mr.  Judson 
return  to  her  in  Burma  if  an  embargo  should 
be  laid  upon  English  ships?  But  where,  oh, 
where  could  she  find  him  in  Bengal  or  the 
vast  country  of  India?  Should  she  go  or 
should  she  stay?  If  she  decided  to  go,  she 
was  in  dread  of  missing  her  husband  for 
months  if  not  forever.  If  she  decided  to  stay, 
he  might  be  cut  off  from  reaching  her,  and 
moreover   her   life   would    be   seriously    en- 

[123] 


Ann  of  Ava 


d  angered.  It  was  a  dreadful  dilemma,  the 
biggest  and  most  puzzling  she  had  ever  en- 
countered in  all  her  career. 

At  last,  discouragement  and  perplexity  bat- 
tered down  her  first  resolve,  and  with  a  heavy 
heart  she  made  preparations  to  leave  Ran- 
goon. With  the  hope  begotten  of  a  great 
love  she  planned  definitely  upon  meeting  her 
husband  in  Bengal,  and  went  so  far  as  to 
engage  his  Burmese  teacher  to  go  with  her 
that  language  study  might  be  resumed.  The 
teacher's  courage  failed,  however,  and  he  broke 
his  engagement,  fearing  the  embarrassment 
of  his  position  should  war  be  declared  be- 
tween Burma  and  Great  Britain. 

On  the  5th  of  July,  the  mission  house  was 
left  behind,  while  Mrs.  Judson  and  Emily, 
with  IMr.  and  Mrs.  Hough,  went  on  board 
the  last  remaining  ship  in  the  harbor.  Even 
yet  Mrs.  Judson  was  not  convinced  of  the 
wisdom  of  her  decision.  The  old  reluctance 
grew  and  grew  even  as  the  ship  receded 
slowly  and  surely  down  the  river  toward  the 
sea.  Nothing  could  reconcile  her  to  this 
enforced  departure,  but  it  was  too  late  now  to 
retrace  her  course.  She  seemed  to  be  the 
[124] 


Ann  of  Ava 


victim  of  adverse  circumstances,  but  usually 
her  will  was  stronger  than  circumstances. 
Why  not  now?  What  was  the  meaning  of 
this  persistent  set  of  her  heart  to  return  to 
Rangoon,  just  as  in  the  journeyings  of  the 
Master  his  face  was  steadfastly  set  to  go  to 
Jerusalem  ? 

The  vessel  was  even  now  at  the  point  where 
the  river  meets  the  sea,  when  the  course  was 
suddenly  changed  and  directed  toward  the 
nearest  harbor.  Unseaworthy  conditions  had 
been  discovered  and  the  ship  must  be  re- 
loaded. Here  was  Mrs.  Judson's  one  and 
only  chance  for  escape,  and  with  determined 
voice  she  announced  her  intention  to  return  to 
Rangoon.  The  captain  agreed  to  send  her 
back  in  a  boat  and  to  forward  her  baggage 
the  next  day.  It  was  evening  when  Mrs. 
Judson  and  her  little  companion,  Emily,  en- 
tered the  city  and  sought  out  the  house  of  the 
only  Englishman  left  in  Rangoon,  where  they 
spent  the  night.  The  next  morning  they 
went  out  to  the  mission  house  to  the  surprise 
and  joy  of  all  the  Burmans  left  on  the  prem- 
ises. Alone  with  her  little  girl,  among  people 
of  an  alien  race,  in  a  disturbed,  isolated  city, 

[125] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Mrs.  Judson  wrote  in  her  diary  of  July  14: 
"  I  know  I  am  surrounded  by  dangers  on 
every  hand,  and  expect  to  feel  much  anxiety 
and  distress,  but  at  present  I  am  tranquil, 
intend  to  make  an  effort  to  pursue  my  studies 
as  formerly  and  leave  the  event  with  God." 

Within  two  days  of  the  return  to  Ran- 
goon, a  long  lost  vessel  sailed  into  the  har- 
bor, even  the  very  ship  on  which  Mr.  Jud- 
son had  departed  six  months  before!  Mrs. 
Judson  hastened  to  the  captain  to  hear  the 
news  he  brought  of  her  husband.  It  was  only 
an  unfinished  tale  he  had  to  tell.  The  ship 
had  not  been  able  to  make  its  intended  port, 
Chittagong,  and  for  three  months  had  been 
tossed  about  in  the  Bay  of  Bengal  without 
a  haven.  At  last  they  had  crept  into  Masuli- 
patam,  a  port  north  of  ^ladras  on  the  coast 
of  India,  where  JMr.  Judson  had  left  the 
ship  to  go  to  JNIadras,  seeking  speedy  pas- 
sage thence  to  Rangoon.  Beyond  this  point 
the  captain  could  give  no  accoimt  of  his 
whereabouts,  but  to  know  that  he  had  escaped 
shipwreck  and  was  trying  his  best  to  return 
home  brought  a  great  lift  of  expectancy  to 
Mrs.  Judson's  spirits  and  confirmed  the  wis- 
[126] 


Ann  of  Ava 


dom  of  her  decision  to  go  back  to  Rangoon. 
This  ship  was  the  first  to  arrive  from  India 
in  four  months,  but  the  fact  of  its  coming 
indicated  that  war  was  not  so  imminent  as 
was  supposed. 

A  few  days  later  Mrs.  Judson  was  sur- 
prised by  the  return  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hough 
to  the  mission  house.  The  belated  ship  upon 
which  they  had  taken  passage  for  Bengal  was 
to  be  detained  in  port  for  some  weeks,  and 
their  departure  was  deferred  accordingly. 
Mrs.  Judson  hoped  and  prayed  for  the  com- 
ing of  her  husband  before  they  should  go 
away  again,  that  she  might  not  be  under  the 
necessity,  as  she  wrote,  *'  of  living  in  this 
dreadful  country,  and  out  here  in  the  woods 
without  a  friend  or  protector."  Her  daily 
program  of  study  was  resumed  and  diligently 
followed.  "This,"  she  wrote,  "I  find  the 
best  method  to  avoid  dejection;  besides,  my 
conscience  will  not  permit  me  to  sit  idly  down 
and  yield  to  those  desponding  feelings  in 
which  a  Christian  should  not  indulge." 

Thus  one  day  after  another  dragged  by 
until  a  week  spent  itself  in  enforced  study 
and  anxious  vigil.     Each  morning  brought 

[127] 


Ann  of  Ava 


quickened  hope  and  each  night  a  fresh  dis- 
appointment. But  on  one  eventful  day  early 
in  August,  hope  brightened  into  fulfilment 
and  disappointment  lost  itself  in  a  transport 
of  joy.  An  English  vessel  had  arrived  at  the 
mouth  of  the  river,  and — news  almost  too 
good  to  be  true — Mr.  Judson  was  on  board! 
To  his  wife,  the  reaction  from  five  long 
months  of  daily  suspense  was  almost  too  much 
to  endure. 

In  the  living-room  of  the  mission  house 
the  husband  and  wife  sat  and  recounted  their 
experiences  of  the  seven  months  of  separa- 
tion. Into  her  story  of  encouragement  fol- 
lowed by  disaster  he  could  easily  read  the 
high  courage  and  resourcefulness  which  had 
actually  saved  the  mission  from  ruin.  Into 
his  narrative  of  fever,  thirst,  starvation,  and 
disappointed  hopes  she  read  the  high  trust 
in  God  which  had  saved  her  husband  from 
despair,  if  not  from  death.  And  together 
they  faced  the  future,  praying  the  old  praj^er 
of  the  first  years  in  Rangoon:  "  God  grant 
that  we  may  live  and  die  among  the  Bur- 
mans,  though  we  never  should  do  anything 
else  than  smooth  the  way  for  others." 
[128] 


XI 
THE  EAST  A-CALLIN' " 


IN  the  year  1822  an  English  sailing  ves- 
sel was  making  its  slow  passage  between 
Calcutta  and  Liverpool  by  the  old  cir- 
cuitous route  around  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope. 
On  board  were  a  number  of  European  pas- 
sengers returning  home  after  a  more  or  less 
prolonged  stay  in  the  East.  One  of  the  larger 
cabins  was  occupied  by  three  children  and  a 
sweet-faced  lady  evidently  not  their  mother. 
The  lady's  brown  eyes  had  a  tired,  patient 
look  as  if  she  had  endured  uncommon  griefs, 
yet  at  the  same  time  they  shone  with  an  un- 
wonted fire  as  if  proclaiming  an  experience 
fraught  with  high  adventure.  Her  complex- 
ion bore  that  peculiar  tan  which  seemed  to 
indicate  long  residence  in  the  tropics. 

Her  manner  and  apj^earance  awakened 
something  more  than  the  curious  interest  of 
her  fellow  travelers,  something  strangely  akin 
to  reverence.  During  those  days  when  she 
was  prostrated  in  her  berth,  not  by  seasick- 
ness  but  by  an   old   complaint,   two   young 

£129] 


Ann  of  Ava 


women  of  high  social  rank  came  frequently 
to  inquire  for  her  and  to  read  aloud  such 
portions  of  literature  as  she  should  select. 
Often  her  choice  was  from  the  Bible  to  which 
she  added  her  own  clear-voiced  entreaty  for 
a  life  of  self-denial  and  high  service.  Her 
two  visitors  were  seriously  impressed  with  the 
sincerity  and  purposefulness  of  this  stranger 
who  they  discovered  had  been  one  of  the 
pioneer  missionaries  to  go  from  America  to 
the  Orient,  and  who,  after  ten  years'  absence, 
was  on  her  way  home  for  her  first  visit. 

Yes,  the  traveler  was  no  other  than  Ann 
Hasseltine  Judson,  who  had  bidden  her  hus- 
band good-by  in  Rangoon,  Burma,  and  was 
now  voyaging  westward  toward  her  girlhood 
home  in  America.  Was  there,  do  you  think, 
no  tinge  of  regret  in  her  joyous  anticipations 
of  father,  mother,  sisters,  and  all  the  dear, 
familiar  scenes  of  New  England?  Leagues 
and  leagues  behind  in  old  Rangoon  lay  the 
home  of  her  womanhood,  the  first  and  only 
home  of  her  married  life.  It  had  cost  labor 
and  sorrow  abundant  to  establish  that  home, 
but  the  priceless  treasure  of  one's  heart  is 
always  won  out  of  travail  of  spirit.  Thus 
[130] 


Ann  of  Ava 


her  life  had  become  fibered  deeply  into  the 
environment  of  heathen  Burma,  and  to  trans- 
plant it  was  like  uprooting  a  firmly  embedded 
tree.  "  Rangoon,  from  having  been  the  thea- 
ter in  which  so  much  of  the  faithfulness, 
power,  and  mercy  of  God  had  been  exhibited, 
from  having  been  considered,  for  ten  years 
past,  as  my  home  for  life,  and  from  a  thou- 
sand interesting  associations  of  ideas,  had 
become  the  dearest  spot  on  earth.  Hence  you 
will  imagine  that  no  ordinary  consideration 
could  have  induced  my  departure."  These 
words  Mrs.  Judson  wrote  to  a  friend  as  she 
was  leaving  Burma. 

It  was  indeed  "  no  ordinary  consideration," 
but  a  life  and  death  concern  which  had  com- 
pelled the  long  separation  from  her  husband 
and  her  beloved  work.  She  had  become  worn 
out  by  a  deep-seated  disease  which  foiled 
every  attempt  at  its  cure.  Before  his  very 
eyes  her  husband  had  seen  her  wasting  away, 
until  the  truth  was  forced  upon  him  that  un- 
less his  wife  were  sent  at  once  to  a  more 
hardy,  northern  climate,  she  could  live  but  a 
few  months.  It  was  a  Spartan  decision,  but 
as  Mrs.  Judson  said,  "  duty  to  God,  to  our- 

[131] 


Ann  of  Ava 


selves,  to  the  board  of  missions,  and  to  the 
perishing  Burmans  compelled  us  to  adopt  this 
course  of  procedure,  though  agonizing  to  all 
the  natural  feelings  of  our  hearts." 

Upon  arrival  in  Calcutta,  in  September, 
1821,  Mrs.  Judson  found  the  captains  of 
America-bound  vessels  unwilling  to  receive 
passengers,  as  cargoes  had  been  accepted  to 
the  extent  of  their  ships'  capacity.  Passage 
to  England  was  therefore  the  alternative  and 
a  kindly-disposed  captain  agreed  to  take  her 
for  a  moderate  sum  provided  she  would  share 
a  stateroom  with  three  children  who  were 
being  sent  to  England.  When  the  father 
heard  of  the  proposition  he  offered  to  pay 
the  entire  cost  of  the  cabin  that  his  children 
might  have  the  benefit  of  Mrs.  Judson's  com- 
panionship. 

Mr.  Kipling  has  declared  that  "  If  youVe 
'card  the  East  a-callin',  you  won't  never  'eed 
naught  else."  And  so  it  was  with  jMrs.  Jud- 
son. The  further  she  sailed  toward  the  West 
the  more  tenaciously  her  thoughts  clung  to 
the  Eastern  city  she  had  left  behind.  Be- 
fore her  eyes  stretched  the  great  expanse  of 
ocean,  but  before  her  inner  vision  appeared 
[132] 


Ann  of  Ava 


a  curiously  wrought  building,  made  partly 
of  bamboo  and  thatch,  and  located  on  one  of 
the  pagoda  roads  in  Rangoon.  JNIemory  and 
imagination  haunted  this  place,  for  it  was 
the  scene  of  her  most  precious  experiences  of 
the  last  two  years  and  was  now  the  probable 
setting  of  her  husband's  daily  labor.  It  was 
their  wayside  chapel,  or  "  zayat,"  as  the  Bur- 
mese called  it,  built  by  JMr.  Judson  on  his 
return  from  the  unfortunate  Chittagong  trip. 
In  the  zayat  Moung  Nau  had  openly  con- 
fessed his  allegiance  to  Jesus  Christ,  es- 
teeming it  a  rare  privilege  to  be  the  first 
Christian  convert  among  the  Burmese  people, 
even  though  he  had  naught  to  expect  in  this 
world  but  persecution  and  death.  There,  on 
the  Sunday  after  Moung  Nau's  baptism,  the 
Lord's  Supper  was  for  the  first  time  adminis- 
tered by  Mr.  Judson  in  two  languages,  Eng- 
lish and  Burmese,  an  event  which  had  been 
the  desire  of  his  heart  for  six  long  years. 
In  the  open  room  at  the  front  the  learned 
teacher  JNIoung  Shwa-gnong  had  appeared 
day  after  da^  questioning  and  reasoning,  his 
philosophic  mind  disturbed  but  not  convinced 
until  months  later  when  he  finally  thrust  aside 

[133] 


Ann  of  Ava 


fear  of  disgrace  and  persecution  and  besought 
Mr.  Judson  for  baptism.  In  the  inner  room 
the  Wednesday  evening  class  was  accustomed 
to  meet  with  Mrs.  Judson,  and  cherished  were 
the  memories  of  those  evening  hours.  Espe- 
cially did  her  thoughts  linger  with  her  friend 
Mah  Men-la,  that  capable,  influential  Bur- 
mese woman,  the  first  of  her  sex  to  acknowl- 
edge herself  a  Christian;  who  later,  of  her 
own  accord  opened  a  village  school  that  the 
boys  and  girls  might  not  have  to  resort  to 
the  Buddhist  priests  for  instruction.  There 
was  also  her  faithful  sister  Mah  Myat-lah  and 
there  were  Moung  Thah-lah,  Moung  Byaa, 
and  the  rest  of  that  stalwart  little  band  of 
disciples,  members  of  the  church,  twelve  in 
number  when  Mrs.  Judson  left  Burma.  No 
wonder  that  she  and  her  husband  felt  as  if 
they  had  entered  a  little  way  into  the  experi- 
ence of  their  Lord,  whose  heart  was  drawn 
out  in  yearning  love  toward  his  twelve  dis- 
ciples I 

Never  would  Mrs.  Judson  forget  the  stead- 
fastness of  those  first  converts,  three  in  num- 
ber, who  rallied  around  her  husband  in  his 
hour  of  bitter  discouragement,  when  he  was 
[134] 


A  Burmese  Christian  Home 


Ann  of  Ava 


on  the  verge  of  abandoning  the  mission  and 
removing  to  Chittagong.  "  Stay,"  they  said, 
"  until  a  little  church  of  ten  is  collected,  and 
then  if  you  must  go  we  will  not  say  nay. 
In  that  case  we  shall  not  be  concerned.  This 
religion  will  spread  of  itself.  The  emperor 
cannot  stop  it." 

It  was  the  failure  of  the  Ava  trip  which 
had  wrought  that  depression  of  Mr.  Judson's 
usually  buoyant  spirits.  Oh,  the  chagrin  and 
ignominy  of  that  journey!  Mrs.  Judson's 
heart  sank  as  she  recalled  the  experiences 
which  she  had  heard  her  husband  narrate  so 
often.  IMr.  Judson,  accompanied  by  his 
new  missionary  associate,  ]Mr.  Colman,  had 
traveled  in  a  native  rowboat  three  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  from  Rangoon  to  the  royal 
city  Ava,  that  they  might  present  to  the 
emperor  a  petition  for  religious  freedom  in 
Burma.  Carefully  had  they  prepared  to 
conciliate  his  majesty  with  gifts,  choosing  as 
the  most  appropriate  offering,  the  Bible 
printed  in  six  volumes,  each  volume  bound  in 
gold  leaf  and  enclosed  in  a  rich,  embroidered 
covering. 

And  then  Mrs.  Judson  pictured  the  mis- 

[135] 


Ann  of  Ava 


sionaries'  reception  at  the  court  of  Ava,  the 
splendor  of  the  royal  palace,  vast  and  golden, 
and  the  proud,  disdainful  young  monarch, 
with  his  rich,  Oriental  garb  and  gold-sheathed 
sword,  and  his  commanding  eye;  before  him 
the  American  teachers,  her  husband  and  Mr. 
Colman,  kneeling  and  humbly  proffering  their 
petition  for  freedom  to  preach  Christ's  gospel 
to  the  Burmese  people!  It  was  a  dramatic 
moment,  a  heathen  emperor  for  the  first  time 
since  the  days  of  Rome  confronted  face  to 
face  by  the  quiet,  determined  followers  of 
Jesus  Christ!  At  first  his  majesty  listened 
somewhat  attentively  and  then  reread  the 
petition,  handing  it  back  without  a  word. 
Breathlessly  the  two  missionaries  waited  as 
he  took  the  tract,  beautifully  printed  for  his 
benefit,  from  the  hand  of  his  minister  of 
state,  and  read  the  first  two  sentences  which 
assert  there  is  but  one  eternal  God,  when, 
with  supreme  indifference,  he  flung  it  to  the 
ground,  thus  deciding  their  fate.  Two  cut- 
ting sentences  pronounced  by  the  minister 
finally  blasted  their  hopes:  "  In  regard  to  the 
objects  of  your  petition,  his  majesty  gives 
no  order.  In  regard  to  your  sacred  books, 
[136] 


Ann  of  Ava 


his  majesty  has  no  use  for  them,  take  them 
away."  Then  followed  the  ignominious  re- 
treat from  the  palace  grounds  and  down  the 
river  to  Rangoon  to  the  solace  of  home  and 
a  few  loyal  friends. 

One  member  of  that  little  family  group 
had  traveled  with  Mrs.  Judson  from  Burma 
to  India,  Emily  Von  Someren,  who  was  re- 
turning to  her  childhood  home  in  Madras  to 
spend  the  time  of  her  foster  mother's  absence. 
She  could  picture  the  child  of  ten  years  sit- 
ting sedately  before  a  class  of  aged  Bur- 
mese men  and  women  teaching  them  their 
letters.  And  last  summer  Emily  had  been 
the  mainstay  of  the  household,  when  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Judson  were  both  sick  with  fever  at 
the  same  time  with  no  attendant  but  the  girl 
of  thirteen.  God  had  been  good  to  lend  them 
the  little  Dutch  girl  for  so  long  a  time. 

Added  to  memories  of  the  past,  came  reali- 
ties of  the  present  charged  with  pleasure  un- 
expected. Soon  after  Mrs.  Judson  landed  in 
England,  ^Ir.  Joseph  Butterworth,  an  emi- 
nent Christian  gentleman  and  member  of 
Parliament,  claimed  her  as  the  guest  of  his 
home.     In  his  house  she  met  many  distin- 

[137] 


Ann  of  Ava 


guished  people,  among  them  Wilberforce, 
Babington,  and  Somers,  the  king's  chaplain. 
Afterwards  Mr.  Butterworth,  in  alluding  to 
her  visit,  said  that  it  reminded  him  of  the 
apostolic  injunction:  "Be  not  forgetful  to 
entertain  strangers,  for  thereby  some  have 
entertained  angels  unawares." 

Friends  in  Scotland  heard  of  Mrs.  Judson's 
arrival  in  England  and  urgently  invited  her 
to  visit  them,  offering  to  defray  her  expenses 
thither.  Thus  she  spent  several  weeks  in  that 
wonderful  little  country,  with  its  thrilling 
history  and  stanch  Christian  people.  While 
there  she  received  a  letter  from  the  Baptist 
mission  board  in  America  asking  her  to 
come  at  once  to  the  United  States  by  the 
New  York  packet.  She  hastened  to  Liver- 
pool to  take  passage  upon  this  ship,  but  was 
dissuaded  by  some  kind  ladies  in  that  city 
who  insisted  upon  pajnng  her  expenses  upon 
a  larger,  more  comfortable  vessel. 

Consequently,  on  August  16,  on  board  the 
Amity,  Mrs.  Judson  recorded  in  her  diary: 
"  Should  I  be  preserved  through  the  voyage, 
the  next  land  I  tread  will  be  my  own  native 
soil,  ever  loved  America,  the  land  of  my 
[138] 


Ann  of  Ava 


birth.  I  cannot  realize  that  I  shall  ever 
again  find  myself  in  my  own  dear  home  at 
Bradford  amid  the  scenes  of  my  early  youth, 
where  every  spot  is  associated  with  some  ten- 
der recollection.  But  the  constant  idea  that 
my  husband  is  not  a  participator  of  my  joys 
will  mar  them  all." 

The  beautiful  coloring  of  October  lay  upon 
the  New  England  hills  when  Ann  Hasseltine 
Judson  returned  along  the  old  Boston  Road 
to  her  father's  house  in  Bradford.  The  voy- 
age from  Burma  had  hardly  seemed  so  in- 
tolerably slow  as  the  last  ten  miles  over  which 
the  stage-coach  crept  its  way.  One  by  one 
familiar  landmarks  came  into  view,  well- 
remembered  roads  leading  to  neighboring 
towns,  houses  where  lived  old  acquaintances, 
a  distant  village  on  a  hill,  and  flowing  swiftly 
through  the  valley,  the  dear  old  river  Merri- 
mac.  Excitement  quickened  every  moment 
and  was  at  its  topmost  pitch  when  the  cluster 
of  white  houses  forming  the  village  of  Brad- 
ford emerged  in  sight.  Now  they  are  ap- 
proaching Bradford  Academy,  the  "  pet  and 
pride  of  the  community,"  yet  still  the  same 
humble  little  building  in  which  Nancy  Has- 

[139] 


Ann  of  Ava 


seltine  and  Harriet  Atwood  went  to  school 
some  eighteen  years  ago.  And  now  at  last 
they  are  drawing  near  the  Hasseltine  home- 
stead and  the  welcome  of  father,  mother, 
Rebecca,  Mary,  and  Abigail. 

What  a  home-coming  it  was!  Ten  years 
of  absence  and  sometimes  no  letter  from  the 
wanderer  for  a  year  or  more  at  a  time!  On 
her  part,  two  solid  years  and  a  half  of  hungry 
expectancy  before  the  first  home  letter  ar- 
rived! What  wonder  that  the  Hasseltine 
family  felt  almost  as  if  they  had  received 
their  yomigest  daughter  from  the  dead! 
What  wonder,  too,  that  the  house  was 
thronged  with  visitors  from  morning  until 
night,  neighbors,  friends,  and  kindred  from 
near  and  far  coming  to  welcome  the  girl  they 
used  to  know,  who,  as  a  woman,  had  traveled 
farther  than  any  of  the  stay-at-home  New 
England  folk  had  ever  dreamed!  And  what 
thrilling,  unimaginable  experiences  she  had 
to  narrate,  and  how  the  foreign  missionary 
venture  branded  as  "  wild  and  romantic  "  ten 
years  ago,  seemed  to  be  justified  in  the  light 
of  the  wonderful  work  begun  in  Burma! 

It  was  a  glad,   proud  moment   for  Miss 
[140] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Abigail  Hasseltine,  the  preceptress  of  Brad- 
ford Academy,  when  her  younger  sister,  al- 
ways her  favorite,  stood  before  the  academy 
students  and  told  them  of  her  loved  work  in 
the  East,  its  hardships  and  hindrances  and 
its  glorious  prospects.  Like  Miss  Abigail, 
the  boys  and  girls  were  captivated  by  the 
speaker's  grace  and  beauty  and  thrilled  by 
her  whole-hearted  enthusiasm. 

But,  alas,  Mrs.  Judson  had  not  counted 
the  cost  of  this  home-coming,  had  not  once 
imagined  its  joy  would  exact  so  heavy  a 
price.  From  the  hour  of  arrival  in  her 
native  land  excitement  robbed  her  nerves 
of  their  equilibrium.  For  the  first  four 
nights  she  was  not  able  to  close  her  eyes  in 
sleep.  Then  came  the  immense  shock  of 
joy  at  the  reunion  with  her  family  and 
friends,  and  for  six  weeks  she  could  not 
obtain  one  quiet  night  of  sleep.  The  con- 
stant round  of  visitors,  together  with  the 
cold  of  an  approaching  New  England  winter 
undermined  her  health  to  such  a  degree  that 
she  was  in  a  most  alarming  condition.  The 
very  purpose  of  her  trip  to  America  was 
being    defeated,    and    however    drastic    the 

[141] 


Ann  of  Ava 


measure,  she  must  devise  some  way  to  secure 
complete  rest  and  quiet  in  a  milder  climate 
than  Massachusetts. 

One  .  expedient  suggested  itself  as  feas- 
ible. Mr.  Judson's  only  brother,  Elnathan, 
was  a  surgeon  of  considerable  skill  working 
under  government  appointment  in  Balti- 
more. He  had  sensed  the  urgency  of  his 
sister's  situation  and  had  frequently  written 
begging  her  to  come  south  to  take  the  treat- 
ment for  her  disease  which  could  not  be  at- 
tempted with  safety  in  the  north.  Her 
"  Indian  constitution  "  as  she  called  it,  was 
ill  adapted  to  the  rigors  of  a  New  England 
climate  after  long  habituation  to  the  tropics. 

Thus,  even  in  America,  Mrs.  Judson  had 
to  make  heroic  decisions,  but  heroic  decisions 
seemed  to  have  become  almost  the  law  of 
her  life.  A  courageous  act  it  was  to  tear 
herself  away  from  her  father's  house  after 
six  weeks'  presence  and  ten  years'  absence, 
yet  it  was  her  paramount  duty  to  regain  her 
health  and  to  subordinate  every  other  in- 
terest. So,  late  in  November,  she  traveled 
bravely  forth  from  Bradford  to  Providence, 
thence  by  steamboat  to  New  York,  where  she 
[142] 


Ann  of  Ava 


paused  for  one  interesting,  memorable  night. 
A  large  number  of  people,  hearing  of  her 
brief  stay  in  the  city,  assembled  to  give  her 
welcome  and  to  pray  with  one  accord  for 
the  mission  work  in  Burma.  It  was  a  brac- 
ing experience  to  find  such  heartfelt  interest 
in  the  far-away  mission,  yet  the  very  exulta- 
tion of  feeling  mingled  with  thoughts  of  the 
distant  home  in  Rangoon  wrought  such  a 
havoc  of  fatigue  that  she  was  scarcely  able 
to  proceed  on  her  journey  to  Baltimore. 

For  the  next  four  months  Mrs.  Judson 
made  a  brave  struggle  for  health.  Through 
her  brother's  influence  she  was  attended  by 
the  most  eminent  physicians  in  Baltimore, 
who  agreed  in  assuring  her  that  she  would 
recover  by  springtime,  but  could  not  have 
lived  through  the  winter  had  she  stayed  in 
New  England.  Even  in  the  milder  climate 
of  Maryland  it  was  no  easy  task  to  recuper- 
ate spent  energy  and  heal  the  deep-seated 
disease.  Although  for  a  time  company  was 
excluded  and  the  coveted  opportunity  to  tell 
of  the  need  in  Burma  prohibited,  yet  even 
in  her  sick  room  Mrs.  Judson  worked  daily 
for  the  mission  she  loved  better  than  life  it- 

[143] 


Ann  of  Ava 


self.  Many  friends  in  England  had  be- 
sought her  to  write  a  history  of  the  Ameri- 
can mission  in  Burma  of  which  she  and  her 
husband  had  been  the  founders.  This  she 
had  essayed  to  do,  beginning  on  shipboard 
during  the  voyage  across  the  Atlantic,  and 
now  resuming  the  labor  at  the  rate  of  five 
hours  a  day  despite  weakness  and  pain.  The 
book  was  written  in  the  form  of  letters  ad- 
dressed to  Joseph  Butterworth,  Esq.,  M.P., 
London,  her  kind  host  and  patron  during 
her  stay  in  England.  Before  Mrs.  Judson 
left  America  her  manuscript  was  printed, 
and  to-day,  in  a  few  libraries  and  private 
collections  is  still  treasured  the  little  old- 
fashioned  volume  in  its  original  garb  of  1823. 
Of  all  the  interesting  mail  from  near  and 
far  which  came  to  brighten  Mrs.  Judson's 
isolation,  do  you  imagine  anything  brought 
such  a  thrill  of  satisfaction  as  those  letters 
which  bore  the  marks  of  long  travel  from 
Rangoon,  Burma?  One  day  in  February  a 
copy  of  Mr.  Judson's  journal  reached  his 
wife  and  with  breathless  interest  she  read 
those  closely-written  pages.  Five  more  con- 
verts to  Christianity,  among  them  three 
[144] 


Ann  of  Ava 


women  who  had  formerly  attended  Mrs. 
Judson's  Wednesday  meeting  in  the  zayatl 
Eighteen  members  of  the  church  of  Christ 
in  Burma,  a  number  pitifully  small  when 
you  remember  the  millions  of  people,  and 
yet  hopefully  large  when  you  stop  to  think 
that  from  a  heathen  idol  to  a  heavenly  Father 
is  a  long  way  for  the  human  mind  to  travel 
in  its  search  for  God!  "You  will  readily 
imagine  my  anxiety  to  get  back  to  Rangoon," 
wrote  Mrs.  Judson  to  her  sister  soon  after 
the  receipt  of  the  Burmese  letter. 

When  the  opportunity  for  usefulness  was 
so  glowing  with  promise  it  was  galling  to 
one's  ambition  to  be  held  captive  in  a  sick 
room,  yet  in  that  period  of  quiet  retirement 
from  the  world  Mrs.  Judson's  spirit  was 
being  equipped  for  the  great  tribulation 
through  which  she  was  destined  to  pass.  It 
seemed  as  if  by  her  prayers  she  had  entered 
into  that  shining  region  of  peace  and  light 
where  dwell  the  "  very  inhabitants  of 
heaven,"  and  had  brought  away  something 
of  its  radiant  atmosphere.  God  had  become 
the  solace  and  delight  of  her  inner  life,  and 
from  this  time  on,  "  neither  death,  nor  life, 

[145] 


Ann  of  Ava 


nor  angels,  .  .  .  nor  any  other  creature " 
would  be  able  to  separate  her  "  from  the  love 
of  God  which  is  in  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord." 
This  was  just  the  armor  her  soul  needed 
for  its  coming  warfare. 

In  March  and  April  Mrs.  Judson  spent 
several  weeks  in  Washington,  reading  proof 
of  her  book,  which  was  finished  and  in  press. 
There,  as  everywhere  slie  went,  she  left  the 
impress  of  a  lovely  personality  absolutely 
devoted  to  God  and  to  the  work  he  had  given 
her  to  do  in  the  world.  While  she  was  in 
Washington,  the  Baptist  General  Conven- 
tion, otherwise  known  as  the  mission  board, 
held  its  annual  session  in  the  city.  From  its 
number  a  committee  was  appointed  to  confer 
with  Mrs.  Judson  regarding  the  Burma 
mission,  and  at  her  suggestion  several  im- 
portant measures  were  adopted.  Those  who 
came  in  touch  with  her  on  this  occasion,  as 
well  as  many  others,  realized  as  they  had 
never  done  before,  the  claim  of  Burma  upon 
the  Baptist  churches  of  America,  to  whose 
efforts  exclusively  God  had  committed  this 
portion  of  his  needy  world. 

With  the  warmer  weather  of  spring  Mrs. 
[U6] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Judson  was  able  to  return  to  Bradford, 
though  only  for  a  fleeting  visit,  because  she 
purposed  to  sail  for  Burma  early  in  the  sum- 
mer. In  vain  did  her  friends  entreat  her 
to  remain  another  year  that  her  health  might 
be  completely  restored.  The  voice  of  the 
East  was  "  callin'  "  so  audibly  in  her  soul 
that  she  could  literally  "  'eed  naught  else." 
Some  mysterious  foreboding  told  her  she 
was  going  away  never  to  return,  but  this 
strange,  solemn  conviction  no  whit  lessened 
her  desire  to  depart. 

On  a  June  day  in  1823,  a  large  group  of 
Christian  people  assembled  at  the  Boston 
wharf  to  bid  farewell  to  three  missionaries 
who  were  sailing  for  the  East,  Mrs.  Ado- 
niram  Judson  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jonathan 
Wade,  destined,  all  three,  for  the  American 
mission  in  Burma.  The  summer  setting  of 
this  scene  was  quite  unlike  the  bleak,  wintry 
day  in  February,  1812,  when  the  first  mis- 
sionaries from  America  to  the  heathen  world 
sailed  out  of  Salem  harbor.  As  different  too 
as  summer  is  from  winter  was  the  expectancy 
singing  in  Mrs.  Judson's  heart,  for  she  was 
this  time  on  her  way — home. 


XII 
THE  GOLDEN  CITY  OF  AVA 

WITHIN  sound  of  the  pagoda  bells 
in  old  Rangoon  and  within  sight 
of  the  broad  river  leading  to  the 
sea,  Adoniram  Judson  stood  looking  intently 
toward  the  west.  His  slight,  alert  figure  and 
his  keen  brown  eyes  easily  identified  him 
with  the  young  man  who  had  led  his  classes 
and  his  classmates  at  Brown  and  Andover. 
His  face  had  always  been  that  of  the  scholar, 
sensitive  and  thoughtful,  but  lines  of  invinci- 
ble determination  and  marks  of  strong  suffer- 
ing now  revealed  his  manhood's  experience. 
Despite  all  the  ravages  of  a  tropical  and  un- 
civilized country  for  the  last  ten  years,  he 
was  still  youthful  in  face  and  form,  still  as 
immaculate  in  appearance,  despite  the  old- 
fashioned  cut  of  his  clothes,  as  if  he  had  just 
emerged  from  the  tidy  New  England  par- 
sonage which  was  his  boyhood  home. 

In  point  of  fact  he  had  just  emerged  from 

his  well-ordered  study  in  the  mission  house 

in  Rangoon,   the  room  which  had  been  his 

perpetual  retreat  for  the  past  ten   months 

[148] 


Ann  of  Ava 


while  he  strove  to  banish  anxiety  and  loneli- 
ness by  unremitting  application  to  study. 
During  that  period  of  waiting  for  his  wife's 
return  he  had  finished  his  translation  of  the 
New  Testament  and  had  written  in  Burmese 
a  summary  in  twelve  sections  of  the  vast  con- 
tents of  Old  Testament  history,  two  enor- 
mous tasks,  equal  to  the  output  of  a  dozen 
ordinary  brains.  The  stint  of  his  mind  was 
now  accomplished,  but  the  desire  of  his  heart 
was  not  yet  realized.  When  would  the  ship, 
bringing  to  him  more  precious  cargo  than 
all  the  costly  merchandise  which  ever  crossed 
the  seas,  come  sailing  into  port?  He  strained 
his  eyes  seaward  to  catch  the  first  glint  of 
light  on  an  approaching  sail. 

After  Mrs.  Judson  left  Burma,  more  than 
two  years  before,  her  husband  had  again 
been  enticed  up  the  river  to  the  royal  city, 
Ava.  His  new  missionary  colleague.  Dr. 
Price,  had  been  summoned  thither  by  order 
of  the  king  himself,  who  had  heard  of  the 
foreign  doctor's  skill  and  desired  an  exhibi- 
tion of  his  ability.  In  this  royal  invitation 
Mr.  Judson  perceived  an  opportunity  to 
press  his  claim  a  second  time  on  behalf  of 

[149] 


Ann  of  Ava 


religious  liberty  for  the  Burmese  followers  of 
Christ.  On  this  occasion  his  hopes  were  not 
blighted  as  formerly,  for  the  king  and  his  court 
extended  a  gracious  reception  to  the  American 
doctor  and  teacher,  and  moreover  displayed 
astonishing  readiness  to  learn  the  meaning  of 
the  new  religion  which  the  Western  strangers 
had  introduced  into  the  old  Buddhist  empire. 
After  four  months'  stay  in  Ava,  during  which 
time  he  associated  constantly  with  the  royal 
family  and  government  officials,  Mr.  Judson 
essayed  to  return  home  to  Rangoon  to  watch 
for  the  coming  of  his  wife.  As  he  took  leave 
of  the  king,  his  majesty  protested  against 
his  going  away  and  bade  him  come  again 
and  dwell  permanently  in  the  golden  city.  A 
plot  of  ground  had  been  given  Mr.  Judson 
as  a  site  for  a  house,  and  his  hopes  ran  high 
at  the  prospect  of  founding  a  Christian  mis- 
sion in  the  capital  city  of  the  nation.  No 
tinge  of  foreboding  darkened  his  thought  as 
he  retraced  his  course  down  the  Irawadi  to  the 
port  city  of  Rangoon. 

It  was  early  in  February,  1823,  when  Mr. 
Judson  returned  home  from  Ava;  it  was  ten 
months  later,  on  the  fifth  day  of  December, 
[150] 


Ann  of  Ava 


when  an  English  ship  was  reported  at  the 
mouth  of  the  river  and  after  some  hours  came 
sailing  triumphantly  into  the  broad  harbor 
of  Rangoon.  The  repressed  longing  of  two 
years'  separation  breaks  its  bounds  to-day, 
for,  lo,  the  traveler  has  returned  from  her 
long,  long  journey!  It  is  verily  Ann  Hassel- 
tine  who  has  come  back,  not  the  Mrs.  Judson 
who  went  away,  frail  and  careworn,  but  the 
girl  of  olden  days,  with  her  fresh  color,  health, 
and  beauty.  What  a  traveler  she  has  been, 
skirting  the  edge  of  four  continents,  com- 
passing boundless  leagues  of  ocean,  circum- 
navigating hemispheres,  and  now  safe  and 
sound  in  the  Burmese  city  from  which  she 
set  forth  two  years  and  four  months  ago! 
Yes,  she  has  actually  reached  the  home  which 
lay  always  "  at  the  end  of  her  dream,"  but 
not,  alas,  to  settle  down  in  the  mission  house 
as  hitherto,  but  to  travel  on,  on  to  the  chief 
city  of  the  empire,  where  dwells  the  all- 
powerful,  capricious  king.  Ava,  the  golden 
city,  what  is  there  in  your  simple  name  to 
suggest  unbridled  cruelty  and  despotism  for 
all  those  who  forfeit  the  favor  of  your 
haughty  monarch? 

[151] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Unwitting  of  danger,  the  husband  and 
wife,  accompanied  by  a  few  Burmese  con- 
verts, set  out  for  the  new  mission  in  the  royal 
city.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hough,  who  had  re- 
turned from  Bengal  during  Mrs.  Judson's 
absence,  together  with  the  newcomers,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Wade,  formed  a  force  of  workers 
sufficient  to  care  for  the  mission  in  Rangoon. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Judson,  the  intrepid  pioneers, 
must  press  on  to  claim  another  heathen  city 
for  the  one  true  God. 

For  six  weeks  in  January  and  February, 
1824,  their  little  boat  pushed  its  way  against 
the  wind  up  stream  toward  Ava.  Often  in 
the  tortuous  course  of  the  river  they  walked 
through  the  wayside  villages  and  overtook 
their  snail-like  conveyance.  A  foreign 
woman  had  never  been  seen  in  these  inland 
towns,  and  great  was  the  excitement  when 
Mrs.  Judson  appeared.  Friends  and  rela- 
tives were  notified  of  her  approach  that  none 
might  miss  the  extraordinary  sight. 

Within  one  hundred  miles  of  Ava  the 
travelers  were  confronted  by  a  spectacle  in- 
tended to  strike  wonder  and  terror  into  the 
hearts  of  beholders.     The  famous  Burmese 


Ann  of  Ava 


general,  Bandoola,  with  his  army,  was  mak- 
ing his  pompous  journey  to  the  coast,  con- 
fidently expecting  to  fight  and  conquer  the 
armies  of  Britain.  His  golden  barge,  sur- 
rounded by  a  fleet  of  golden  war  boats,  met 
the  humble  little  craft  containing  the  mis- 
sionaries and  promptly  challenged  their  right 
to  proceed.  When  informed  that  the  trav- 
elers were  not  English  people,  but  Ameri- 
cans going  to  Ava  at  the  express  command 
of  the  king,  they  permitted  them  to  go  on 
their  way  unmolested.  From  now  on,  how- 
ever, the  missionaries  knew  that  war  was  a 
menacing  probability  and  that  at  any  mo- 
ment they  might  be  plunged  into  its  grim 
realities. 

A  few  days  before  they  reached  Ava,  Dr. 
Price,  who  had  heard  of  their  approach, 
came  in  a  small  boat  to  meet  them.  It  was 
a  somewhat  sorry  tale  he  had  to  tell,  dampen- 
ing to  their  expectations  of  a  welcome  in  the 
royal  city.  The  tide  of  popularity  had 
seemed  to  turn  against  the  foreign  residents 
of  Ava.  The  old  privy  councilors  of  the 
king  had  been  dismissed  and  their  places 
filled  by  new  officials  who  neither  knew  nor 

[153] 


Ann  of  Ava 


cared  for  the  American  teachers.  Thus  Mr. 
Judson  foresaw  that  he  had  little  to  expect 
for  the  mission  he  and  Dr.  Price  planned  to 
establish. 

Upon  arrival  in  the  city,  prospects  were 
no  less  doleful.  No  house  opened  its  door 
to  receive  them  except  Dr.  Price's,  which  was 
unfinished  and  so  unsavory  with  dampness 
that  Mrs.  Judson,  after  a  few  hours'  stay, 
was  thrown  into  a  fever.  There  was  no 
alternative  but  to  abide  in  the  boat  until  a 
shelter  of  some  sort  could  be  erected  upon 
the  plot  of  ground  given  by  the  king  to  Mr. 
Judson  on  his  former  visit.  Mrs.  Judson 
could  hardly  credit  her  senses  when,  in  ex- 
actly two  weeks  after  their  arrival,  they 
moved  their  belongings  into  a  comfortable 
house  of  three  rooms  and  a  veranda,  actually 
built  and  completed  in  that  incredibly  short 
timel 

Therein,  despite  meager  encouragement 
from  the  royal  palace,  they  began  to  hold 
services  every  evening,  which  a  number  of 
Burmese  attended.  It  was  a  decided  ad- 
vantage to  be  able  to  speak  the  language 
with  such  ease  as  these  two  foreigners 
[164] 


Ann  of  Ava 


had  acquired.  Every  Sundaj^  Mr.  Judson 
preached  to  an  audience  varying  in  number 
from  twelve  to  twenty  who  assembled  at  Dr. 
Price's  house  across  the  river.  Mrs.  Judson 
opened  a  school  for  girls,  consisting  origi- 
nally of  three  small  pupils,  two  of  them 
being  sisters  whom  their  father  had  given  to 
Mrs.  Judson  to  educate.  She  named  them 
for  her  own  sisters,  Mary  and  Abby  Hassel- 
tine  and  planned  to  support  one  of  them 
with  the  money  which  the  "  Judson  Asso- 
ciation of  Bradford  Academy "  had  agreed 
to  contribute.  In  a  spirit  of  quiet  depend- 
ence upon  God  the  missionaries  applied 
themselves  to  their  tasks,  conscious,  neverthe- 
less, that  trouble  was  brewing  every  day. 

Mr.  Judson  went  two  or  three  times  to  the 
royal  palace,  according  to  his  former  habit, 
but  the  king  scarcely  deigned  to  notice  him. 
The  queen,  who  had  previously  expressed  a 
strong  desire  to  see  the  teacher's  wife  in  her 
foreign  dress,  now  made  no  inquiries  nor  ex- 
pressed a  wish  for  her  presence.  Conse- 
quently Mrs.  Judson  did  not  attempt  to 
visit  the  palace  although  she  was  invited  al- 
most every  day  to  call  upon  members  of  the 

[166] 


Ann  of  Ava 


royal  family  living  outside  the  palace  en- 
closure. The  only  course  of  procedure 
seemed  to  be  to  carry  out  their  original  in- 
tentions as  unobtrusively  as  possible,  seeking 
at  every  step  to  give  evidence  that  they  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  war. 

Still,  suspicion  seemed  to  rest  ominously 
upon  the  foreigners  who  dwelt  at  Ava.  Af- 
ter the  king  and  queen  took  formal  possession 
of  the  new  palace  just  completed,  an  order 
was  issued  that,  with  one  exception,  no  for- 
eigner should  be  allowed  to  enter  its  pre- 
cincts. This  mysterious  command  was  some- 
what disconcerting,  but  for  two  or  three  weeks 
no  alarming  event  occurred,  and  preparations 
were  steadily  made  for  the  new  brick  house 
which  was  to  shelter  the  Judson  family  from 
the  blistering  heat  of  the  tropics. 

On  Sunday,  the  23rd  of  May,  the  little 
group  of  Christians  gathered  as  usual  for 
worship  at  Dr.  Price's  house,  when,  at  the 
close  of  service,  a  messenger  appeared  at  the 
door  with  an  exciting  announcement.  Man- 
goon  had  been  captured  by  the  British  army! 
War  was  a  vivid  reality  now,  and  the  for- 
eigners in  Ava  must  face  its  uncertain  issues. 
[166] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Mr.  Gouger,  a  young  English  merchant  re- 
siding in  Ava,  was  in  the  company  of  the 
missionaries  when  the  news  arrived,  and  for 
his  safety  they  feared  more  exceedingly  than 
for  their  own.  As  Americans,  they  fervently 
hoped  they  would  not  be  entangled  in  the 
aflPairs  of  war.  Yet  one  and  all  repaired 
to  the  Judsons'  house  in  the  city  to  consult. 
Mr.  Gouger  made  haste  to  interview  the 
prince  who  was  the  king's  most  influential 
brother.  His  reply  was,  that  his  majesty 
had  definitely  stated  that  "  the  few  foreigners 
residing  in  Ava  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
war  and  should  not  be  molested."  Even  with 
this  assurance  apprehension  was  not  wholly 
allayed. 

The  cause  of  the  war  was  that  ill-fated 
country,  ill-fated  at  least  to  the  Judsons, 
known  as  Chittagong.  This  region  was 
under  British  rule,  and  Burmese  subjects 
often  took  refuge  there  from  the  despotism 
of  their  own  government.  The  king  of 
Burma  demanded  that  his  subjects  should 
be  arrested  by  British  officers  and  returned 
to  his  authority.  Furthermore,  the  Burmans 
resented    the    flag    of    Great    Britain    in    a 

[157] 


Ann  of  Ava 


country  which  they  felt  belonged  logically  to 
their  own  nation.  Consequently  they  made 
audacious  advances  into  British  territory 
and  every  attempt  on  the  part  of  that  gov- 
ernment for  redress  was  met  by  indifference, 
and  finally  by  active  preparations  for  war. 
So  monstrous  was  the  daring  of  this  un- 
civilized nation  that  they  even  proposed  to 
invade  Bengal  itself.  It  was  rumored  that 
Bandoola's  army  carried  a  pair  of  golden 
fetters  destined  to  be  worn  by  the  Governor- 
general  of  India  when  he  should  be  led  cap- 
tive to  the  "  golden  feet "  of  Burma's  mon- 
arch. The  military  pride  of  Great  Britain 
would  endure  this  insolence  no  longer,  and 
in  May,  1824,  an  army  of  six  thousand  men 
under  the  command  of  Sir  Archibald  Camp- 
bell was  dispatched  to  Rangoon.  So  totally 
unexpected  was  this  attack  that  little  or  no 
resistance  was  made  and  Rangoon  fell 
promptly  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 

When  the  news  of  the  fall  of  Rangoon 
reached  the  royal  city,  almost  gleeful  prep- 
arations were  made  for  speedy  retaliation. 
Never  a  doubt  was  harbored  of  the  possibility 
of  victory,  the  king's  only  fear  being  that 
[168] 


Ann  of  Ava 


the  British  would  be  so  overwhelmed  with 
terror  at  the  approach  of  the  Burmese  troops 
that  they  would  flee  away  in  their  ships  be- 
fore they  could  be  captured  as  slaves.  "  Bring 
me,"  said  the  wife  of  a  high  official,  "  four 
white  strangers  to  manage  the  affairs  of  my 
house,  as  I  understand  they  are  trusty  serv- 
ants." In  three  or  four  days  an  army  of 
ten  thousand  men  was  enlisted  and  sent  on 
its  way  down  the  river  toward  Rangoon.  As 
the  war  boats  passed  the  Judsons'  house  on 
the  river  bank,  the  soldiers  were  dancing, 
singing,  and  gesticulating  in  high  glee. 
"  Poor  fellows,"  said  those  who  knew  the 
prowess  of  the  greatest  military  nation  on 
earth,  "  you  will  probably  never  dance  again." 
As  soon  as  the  army  had  departed  from 
the  city,  the  government  officials  began  to 
ask  why  the  English  soldiers  had  attacked 
Rangoon.  There  must  be  spies  in  the  coun- 
try who  have  invited  them,  was  the  insidious 
suggestion,  instantaneously  adopted.  "  And 
who  so  likely  to  be  spies  as  the  English- 
men residing  in  Ava?"  A  rumor  was  circu- 
lated that  Captain  Laird,  recently  arrived,  had 
brought  papers  from  Bengal  which  stated  the 

[169] 


Ann  of  Ava 


purpose  of  the  English  to  take  Rangoon. 
The  three  Englishmen,  Mr.  Gouger,  Captain 
Laird,  and  Mr.  Rogers,  were  summoned  for 
examination,  and  were  kept  in  confinement 
though  not  in  prison.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Judson 
began  to  tremble  for  their  own  safety  and 
were  in  daily  dread  of  some  direful  event. 
Soon  the  day  came  when  Mr.  Judson  and 
Dr.  Price  were  commanded  to  appear  at  the 
court  of  inquiry.  Had  they  ever  sent  in- 
formation to  foreigners  about  the  condition 
of  affairs  in  Burma?  They  replied  that  they 
had  always  written  to  their  friends  in 
America,  but  that  they  had  no  correspond- 
ence whatsoever  with  British  officers.  After 
their  examination  was  over  they  were  not 
put  in  confinement  as  were  the  English- 
men, but  were  allowed  to  return  to  their 
homes. 

Upon  inspecting  the  accounts  of  Mr.  Gou- 
ger, the  Burmese  officials  came  upon  evidence 
which  to  their  minds  fully  incriminated  the 
American  missionaries.  As  it  was  the  cus- 
tom of  the  Americans  to  receive  their  money 
by  orders  on  Bengal,  there  were  accordingly 
entries  in  Mr.  Gouger's  book  recording  pay- 
[160] 


Ann  of  Ava 


ments  of  considerable  sums  to  Dr.  Price  and 
Mr.  Judson.  Knowing  nothing  of  such  busi- 
ness methods,  the  Burmans  concluded  that 
the  Americans  were  in  the  employ  of  the 
English,  and  were  therefore  spies.  The  dis- 
covery was  reported  to  the  king,  who,  in 
angry  tones,  ordered  the  immediate  arrest  of 
the  "  two  teachers." 

On  the  8th  day  of  June  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Judson  were  quietly  preparing  for  dinner, 
when  suddenly  the  door  was  flung  open  and 
a  Burmese  officer  rushed  in,  holding  in  his 
hand  the  dreaded  black  book,  the  sign  of 
doom.  Behind  him  pressed  a  dozen  rough 
men,  among  them  one  of  hideous  aspect, 
whose  spotted  face  marked  him  instantly  as 
a  "  son  of  the  prison,"  a  jailer  and  execu- 
tioner. "  Where  is  the  teacher? "  asked  the 
officer's  gruff  voice.  Mr.  Judson  immediately 
came  forward.  "  You  are  called  by  the 
king,"  said  the  officer,  in  the  form  of  speech 
used  when  arresting  criminals.  As  soon  as 
the  fateful  sentence  was  pronounced,  the 
spotted  man  seized  Mr.  Judson,  threw  him 
on  the  floor  and  proceeded  to  bind  him  with 
the  small  cord  used  by  the  Burmans  as  an 

[161] 


Ann  of  Ava 


instrument  of  torture.  "  Stay,"  cried  Mrs. 
Judson,  grasping  the  man's  arm,  "  I  will 
give  you  money."  "  Take  her,  too,"  was  the 
officer's  brutal  rejoinder,  "  she  also  is  a  for- 
eigner." With  one  beseeching  look  Mr.  Jud- 
son entreated  them  to  leave  his  wife  until 
further  orders  should  be  received. 

From  that  moment  the  scene  was  chaos 
personified.  The  neighbors  gathered  in  fran- 
tic curiosity.  The  masons  at  work  on  the 
new  brick  house  dropped  their  tools  and  ran. 
The  little  Burmese  girls,  JVIary  and  Abby, 
screamed  in  terror.  The  Bengali  servants 
stood  petrified  with  horror  at  the  insults 
heaped  upon  their  master.  IMeanwhile,  the 
spotted-faced  executioner,  with  a  kind  of 
fiendish  delight,  tightened  the  cords  which 
bound  his  prisoner.  Again  Mrs.  Judson  im- 
plored him  to  take  the  money  and  loosen  the 
ropes,  but  he  only  spurned  her  offer  and 
dragged  her  husband  away,  to  what  fate  she 
dared  not  imagine.  She  gave  the  money  to 
Moung  Ing,  one  of  the  Rangoon  Christians 
who  had  accompanied  them  to  Ava,  bidding 
him  follow  her  husband  and  try  to  relieve 
his  suffering.  To  her  distress  he  came  back 
[162] 


Ann  of  Ava 


with  the  report  that  when  a  few  rods'  distant 
from  the  house,  the  hardened  wretches  threw 
their  prisoner  to  the  ground  and  drew  the 
cords  still  tighter,  so  that  he  could  scarcely 
breathe.  They  marched  him  to  the  court- 
house, related  Moung  Ing,  where  the  gov- 
ernor and  city  officials  were  assembled.  There 
the  king's  order  was  read,  consigning  Mr. 
Judson  to  the  death  prison,  that  fatal  place 
from  which  none  ever  emerged  save  by  special 
intervention  of  the  king. 

From  the  court-house  to  the  prison  en- 
closure Mr.  Judson  was  dragged,  and  up 
the  high  steps  to  the  one  dark,  filthy  room 
where  the  hapless  prisoners  were  confined. 
"  Let-ma-yoon  "  was  the  name  for  this  cham- 
ber of  horrors,  a  name  so  hideously  appro- 
priate that  those  who  knew  the  Burmese  lan- 
guage shuddered  at  its  mention.  "  Hand- 
shrink-not  "  was  its  meaning, — shrink  not 
from  the  most  revolting  cruelties  ever  de- 
vised by  mortal  man  or  incarnate  fiend. 

With  the  knowledge  of  her  husband's  com- 
mittal to  the  death  prison  that  June  day 
came  to  a  close,  leaving  in  Mrs.  Judson's 
mind   ghastly   memories,   but   apprehensions 

[163] 


Ann  of  Ava 


yet  more  horrible.  From  that  night  began 
the  extraordinary  series  of  maneuvers  for 
the  rescue  of  her  husband  and  the  other  for- 
eign prisoners,  which  made  Ann  Hasseltine 
Judson  known  in  the  East  and  West  as  the 
heroine  of  Ava, 


[164] 


XIII 
THE  HEROINE  OF  AVA 


THE  sunshine  of  a  June  afternoon  in 
the  tropics  beat  down  upon  the  little 
house  on  the  river  bank  in  Ava, 
where,  on  the  fatal  day  of  the  arrest,  Mrs. 
Judson  was  left  alone  with  her  Burmese 
companions.  The  first  shock  of  terror  was 
still  upon  her  as  she  went  into  an  inner  room 
to  face  the  horrible  situation  into  which  a 
few  short  hours  had  plunged  her.  An  un- 
protected foreign  woman  in  the  midst  of  an 
lalien  people  whose  every  impulse  was  bent 
upon  revenge!  Her  dearest  companion  in 
the  world  imprisoned  and  tortured,  possibly 
doomed  to  death!  The  tragedy  of  her  situa- 
tion has  scarcely  been  equaled  in  human  his- 
tory. In  overwhelming  grief  she  cast  herself 
upon  the  love  and  mercy  of  God,  imploring 
strength  to  endure  the  sufferings  which 
awaited  her.  Only  infinite  goodness  could 
overcome  the  forces  of  cruel  ignorance  let 
loose  in  that  heathen  city. 

Even  the  comfort  of  solitude  was  speedily 

[166] 


Ann  of  Ava 


denied,  for  the  tramp  of  feet  was  heard  on 
the  veranda  and  a  gruff  voice  demanded  her 
appearance.  It  was  the  magistrate  of  the 
city  calling  the  wife  of  the  foreign  prisoner 
to  come  forth  for  examination.  Before  obey- 
ing the  summons  she  destroyed  every  letter, 
journal,  and  manuscript  in  her  possession 
lest  their  existence  should  reveal  the  fact 
that  they  had  correspondents  in  England 
and  that  they  had  recorded  every  happening 
since  arrival  in  the  country.  This  task  of 
precaution  completed,  Mrs.  Judson  presented 
herself  before  the  Burmese  official,  who  ques- 
tioned her  about  every  minute  matter  sup- 
posed to  lie  within  her  knowledge.  This  or- 
deal over,  he  ordered  the  gate  closed,  for- 
bade any  one  to  go  in  or  out,  and  stationed 
a  band  of  ruffians  on  guard,  strictly  charging 
them  to  keep  their  prisoner  safe.  With  his 
duties  thus  pompously  discharged  the  magis- 
trate strode  away. 

The  darkness  of  night  fell  upon  the  doomed 
house,  and  the  gloom  of  death  seemed  to  lurk 
in  its  shadows.  Again  Mrs.  Judson  took 
refuge  in  the  inside  room,  drawing  her  little 
Burmese  girls  with  her,  and  barring  the  door 
[166] 


Ann  of  Ava 


behind  them.  Instantly  the  guard  com- 
manded her  to  mifasten  the  door  and  come 
out,  threatening,  if  she  disobeyed,  to  break 
down  the  house.  As  persistently  as  they  de- 
manded, she  refused,  and  tried  to  frighten 
them  by  declaring  that  she  would  complain 
of  their  conduct  to  higher  authorities.  Fi- 
nally, perceiving  that  she  was  determined 
not  to  yield,  they  seized  the  two  Bengali 
servants  and  thrust  them  into  the  stocks  in 
most  painful  positions.  Their  plight  was  un- 
bearable to  behold,  so  Mrs.  Judson  called 
the  head  man  to  the  window  and  promised 
to  give  the  guard  each  a  present  in  the  morn- 
ing if  they  would  release  her  servants.  After 
loud  argument  and  rough  threatening,  they 
agreed  to  the  bargain.  Their  noisy  carous- 
ings  and  diabolical  language,  combined  with 
the  anxiety  which  pierced  ]Mrs.  Judson's  mind 
like  a  sword,  made  this  June  night  a  long- 
drawn  horror.  Sleep  was  a  far-away  phan- 
tom and  the  darkness  but  a  covert  of  terror. 
At  the  dawn  of  a  new  day  Mrs.  Judson's 
first  move  was  to  dispatch  Moung  Ing  to 
the  prison  to  find  out  her  husband's  condition 
and  to  give  him  food,  if  he  was  still  alive. 

[167] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Moung  Ing  returned  quickly  with  the  news 
that  Mr.  Judson  and  the  other  foreigners 
were  confined  in  the  death  prison,  each  bound 
with  three  pairs  of  iron  fetters  and  fastened 
to  a  long  pole  to  prevent  their  moving.  The 
climax  of  agony  for  Mrs.  Judson  lay  in  the 
fact  that  she  was  a  prisoner  herself,  and 
could  make  no  efforts  for  their  release. 
Again  and  again  she  besought  the  magistrate 
for  permission  to  go  to  some  member  of 
government  and  state  her  case,  but  persist- 
ently he  refused,  declaring  that  he  dared  not 
allow  her  to  go  lest  she  should  make  her 
escape.  Foiled  in  this  attempt,  she  wrote  a 
letter  to  one  of  the  king's  sisters  with  whom 
she  had  been  exceedingly  friendly,  beseech- 
ing her  to  exert  her  influence  on  behalf  of 
the  foreign  prisoners.  The  note  was  returned 
with  the  message,  "  I  do  not  understand  it," 
which  in  reality  was  a  polite  refusal  to  inter- 
fere. Afterwards  Mrs.  Judson  learned  that 
she  had  been  really  eager  to  help  but  dared 
not  risk  the  queen's  disfavor. 

The   day   dragged   heavily   past,   and   the 
darkness  of  another  night  settled  down  upon 
the  little  household  of  burdened  people.     To 
[168] 


Ann  of  Ava 


propitiate  the  guard,  Mrs.  Judson  gave  them 
tea  and  presents  which  softened  their  temper 
to  such  an  extent  that  they  refrained  from 
molesting  her  throughout  the  night.  Yet 
sleep  came  only  in  broken  snatches,  for  per- 
petually before  her  mind  loomed  the  vision 
of  her  husband,  bound  in  iron  fetters  and 
stretched  upon  the  prison  floor. 

When  morning  came  Mrs.  Judson  arose, 
keyed  for  action.  She  had  at  last  contrived 
a  way  to  intercede  for  the  prisoners.  A  mes- 
sage was  sent  to  the  governor  of  the  city, 
requesting  him  to  allow  her  to  visit  him  with 
a  present.  This  device  worked  like  a  charm, 
for  immediately  the  guard  received  orders 
to  allow  their  prisoner  to  go  into  the  city. 
The  governor  welcomed  his  visitor  graciously 
and  inquired  kindly  what  her  desire  might 
be.  Whereupon  Mrs.  Judson  related  the 
situation  of  the  foreigners,  especially  the  two 
teachers,  her  husband  and  Dr.  Price,  who,  as 
Americans,  had  nothing  whatsoever  to  do 
with  the  war.  The  governor  answered  that 
it  was  beyond  his  power  to  liberate  them,  but 
that  he  could  make  them  more  comfortable  in 
prison.     There  was  his  head  officer,  he  said, 

[169] 


Ann  of  Ava 


indicating  an  evil  looking  man,  with  him  she 
must  make  terms.  The  officer  led  her  aside 
and  tried  to  impress  upon  her  the  fact  that 
he  was  complete  master  of  the  situation,  and 
that  the  future  comfort  of  herself  as  well  as 
the  prisoners  depended  upon  the  generosity 
of  her  presents  to  himself,  which  she  must 
deliver  secretly.  "  What  must  I  do,"  said 
Mrs.  Judson,  "  to  obtain  a  mitigation  of  the 
present  sufferings  of  the  two  teachers?" 
"  Pay  to  me,"  said  he,  "  two  hundred  ticals 
[about  a  hundred  dollars],  two  pieces  of  fine 
cloth,  and  two  pieces  of  handkerchiefs."  INIrs. 
Judson  had  taken  a  considerable  sum  of 
money  with  her  when  she  left  home  in  the 
morning,  and  this  she  offered  to  the  greedy 
official,  who,  after  some  hesitation,  accepted 
it  and  promised  relief  to  the  tortured  pris- 
oners. 

Her  next  move  was  to  request  the  governor 
for  a  passport  into  the  prison,  which  request 
was  granted.  But  for  the  ghastly  reality 
which  awaited  her  there  the  most  vivid 
imagination  was  scarcely  prepared.  In  her 
own  story  of  the  unhappy  days  in  Ava,  Mrs. 
Judson  refused  to  narrate  the  heartrending 
[170] 


Ann  of  Ava 


scene  which  took  place  that  day  at  the  prison 
entrance.  Mr.  Gouger,  who  hobbled  to  the 
wicket  door  at  the  same  time,  to  receive  his 
daily  provisions,  described  many  years  later 
the  pathetic  meeting  between  the  husband 
and  wife.  Mr.  Judson  crawled  to  the  door, 
as  the  heavy  fetters  around  his  ankles  pre- 
vented his  walking.  The  torture  of  mind  and 
body  which  he  had  endured  was  stamped 
upon  his  face,  which  was  as  haggard  as  if 
death  had  already  claimed  him.  His  soiled, 
unkempt  condition  added  to  the  misery  of  his 
appearance.  At  sight  of  him,  his  wife  buried 
her  face  in  her  hands,  unable  to  behold  the 
shocking  change  which  two  days  had  wrought. 
Scarcely  had  they  begun  to  talk  together 
when  the  jailers  ordered  her  away.  She 
pleaded  the  governor's  permit,  but  they  re- 
joined, "  Depart,  or  we  will  pull  you  out." 
Thus  she  was  compelled  to  turn  her  weary 
steps  away  from  the  prison  and  walk  the 
two  miles  back  to  her  house,  her  mind  freshly 
tortured  by  the  prison  scene,  which  was  in- 
finitely worse  as  a  memory  than  as  a  con- 
jecture. 

That    evening    the    missionaries,    together 

[171] 


Ann  of  Ava 


with  the  other  foreigners  who  had  advanced 
an  equal  sum  of  money,  were  removed  from 
the  common  prison  and  confined  in  an  open 
shed  within  the  prison  yard.  Here  Mrs. 
Judson  was  allowed  to  send  them  food,  and 
mats  upon  which  to  sleep,  but  for  several 
days  entrance  was  denied  her. 

As  her  mind  cast  about  for  other  expe- 
dients, she  resolved  to  send  a  petition  to  the 
queen  herself.  Mrs.  Judson  could  not  go  in 
person  to  the  royal  palace,  since  no  one  in 
disgrace  with  the  king  was  allowed  admit- 
tance. Through  the  queen's  sister-in-law, 
who  in  better  days  had  shown  her  marked 
favor,  she  would  intercede  with  her  royal 
highness.  Accordingly  she  chose  a  valuable 
gift  and  appeared  in  the  presence  of  the  Bur- 
mese noblewoman,  who,  as  she  entered,  was 
reclining  in  Oriental  fashion  upon  a  carpet, 
surrounded  by  her  attendants.  Without 
waiting  for  the  question  "  What  do  you 
want?  "  usually  addressed  to  a  suppliant,  Mrs. 
Judson  told  the  story  of  their  unhappy  plight 
and  implored  her  assistance.  Partly  raising 
her  head,  she  examined  the  present  and  re- 
plied coldly,  "  Your  case  is  not  singular ;  all 
[172] 


Ann  of  Ava 


the  foreigners  are  treated  alike."  "  But  it  is 
singular,"  said  Mrs.  Judson,  "  the  teachers 
are  Americans;  they  are  ministers  of  religion, 
have  nothing  to  do  with  war  or  politics,  and 
came  to  Ava  in  obedience  to  the  king's  com- 
mand. They  have  never  done  anything  to 
deserve  such  treatment,  and  is  it  right  they 
should  be  treated  thus?"  "The  king  does 
as  he  pleases,"  she  replied,  "  I  am  not  the 
king;  what  can  I  do?  "  "  You  can  state  their 
case  to  the  queen  and  obtain  their  release," 
answered  Mrs.  Judson.  "  Place  yourself  in 
my  situation;  were  you  in  America,  your  hus- 
band innocent  of  crime,  thrown  into  prison, 
in  irons,  and  you  a  solitary,  unprotected 
female,  what  would  you  do? "  With  a  slight 
show  of  feeling  she  replied,  "  I  will  present 
your  petition;  come  again  to-morrow."  This 
assurance  sent  Mrs.  Judson  homeward  with 
the  expectation,  perhaps  unwarranted,  that 
the  day  of  freedom  was  at  hand. 

On  the  morrow,  however,  her  heart  sank 
within  her  as  she  heard  the  news  that  Mr. 
Gouger's  property,  to  the  amount  of  fifty 
thousand  rupees,  had  been  seized  and  trans- 
ferred to  the  palace.     The  officers,  as  they 

[173] 


Ann  of  Ava 


returned  from  the  confiscation,  informed 
Mrs.  Judson  that  they  should  visit  her  house 
the  next  day.  It  was  a  timely  warning  and 
she  acted  upon  it  by  hiding  away  as  much 
silver  and  as  many  precious  possessions  as  she 
dared.  As  she  thought  of  the  danger  in- 
volved in  the  act,  her  mind  quivered  with  fear. 
If  detected,  her  own  imprisonment  might  be 
the  penalty.  On  the  other  hand  the  measure 
was  imperative,  since,  if  war  should  be  pro- 
tracted, there  would  be  no  way  of  procuring 
money,  and  starvation  would  be  their  doom. 
True  to  their  word,  the  officers  appeared 
the  following  morning  with  an  order  from 
the  king  to  seize  the  property  of  the  mission- 
aries. A  lordly  retinue  seemed  to  be  re- 
quired to  take  away  the  possessions  of  a  soli- 
tary foreign  woman.  The  procession  which 
approached  the  house  was  led  by  three  Bur- 
mese noblemen,  followed  by  a  band  of  forty 
or  fifty  attendants.  The  lady  whom  they 
had  come  to  dispossess  of  all  she  owned,  re- 
ceived her  visitors  with  marked  courtesy, 
offering  them  chairs,  and  treating  them  with 
tea  and  sweetmeats.  They  responded  to  her 
courtesy  and  to  the  high  courage  of  her 
[174] 


Ann  of  Ava 


womanhood  by  conducting  their  disagreeable 
business  with  more  kindliness  than  Mrs.  Jud- 
son  had  ever  expected  to  find  in  a  Burmese 
official.  Only  the  high  dignitaries  entered 
the  house,  the  attendants  being  ordered  to 
wait  outside.  Perceiving  the  grief  which 
Mrs.  Judson  could  not  conceal,  they  even 
apologized  for  the  necessity  of  their  task, 
which  they  claimed  was  painful  to  them. 

"  Where  are  your  silver,  gold,  and  jew- 
els? "  inquired  the  royal  treasurer.  "  I  have 
no  gold  or  jewels,"  answered  Mrs.  Judson, 
"  but  here  is  the  key  of  a  trunk  which  con- 
tains the  silver,  do  with  it  as  you  please." 
The  trunk  was  opened  and  the  silver  weighed. 
"  This  money,"  interposed  Mrs.  Judson, 
"  was  collected  in  America  by  the  disciples 
of  Christ,  and  sent  here  for  the  purpose  of 
building  a  kyoung  (a  priest's  dwelling),  and 
for  our  support  while  teaching  the  religion 
of  Christ.  Is  it  suitable  that  you  should  take 
it?"  The  Burmese  are  habitually  opposed 
to  the  acceptance  of  money  given  for  religious 
purposes,  hence  the  shrewdness  of  Mrs.  Jud- 
son's  appeal.  "  We  will  state  this  circum- 
stance to  the  king,"  replied  an  officer,  "  per- 

[175] 


Ann  of  Ava 


haps  he  will  restore  it.  But  is  this  all  the 
silver  you  have?"  "The  house  is  in  your 
possession,"  she  said,  evading  a  direct  reply, 
"  search  for  yourselves."  "  Have  you  not 
deposited  silver  with  some  person  of  your 
acquaintance?"  "My  acquaintances  are  all 
in  prison;  with  whom  should  I  deposit 
silver?" 

Examination  of  Mrs.  Judson's  trunk  and 
dresser  was  the  next  command,  and  with 
some  nicety  of  consideration  they  permitted 
only  one  of  their  number  to  attend  her  in 
this  search.  Everything  which  appealed  to 
him  as  valuable  or  interesting  was  submitted 
to  the  other  officials  for  decision  as  to  whether 
it  should  be  taken  or  left.  Mrs.  Judson  sug- 
gested the  impropriety  of  taking  partly  worn 
clothing  into  the  presence  of  the  king,  to 
which  they  agreed,  and  simply  made  a  list 
of  wearing  apparel,  doing  the  same  with  the 
books  and  medicine.  Two  particular  treas- 
ures, a  little  work-table  and  a  rocking-chair, 
were  recovered  from  their  grasp  by  a  bit  of 
stratagem  on  Mrs.  Judson's  part.  Many 
other  articles  of  unspeakable  value  to  her 
during  the  months  which  followed,  were  left 
[176] 


Ann  of  Ava 


behind  when  the  work  of  confiscation  was 
completed.  Still,  it  was  a  ravaged,  desolate 
home  from  which  the  officers  and  their  staff 
departed  that  June  day. 

Scarcely  had  they  disappeared  down  the 
road,  when  Mrs.  Judson  hastened  to  the 
house  of  the  queen's  sister-in-law  to  learn 
the  result  of  yesterday's  appeal.  Loss  of 
property  was  a  mere  bagatelle  compared  with 
her  husband's  imprisonment.  To  secure  his 
release  was  a  task  which  absorbed  all  her 
energies  and  fondest  hopes,  and,  as  time 
went  on,  exacted  a  superhuman  patience. 
With  hopefulness  unrestrained,  Mrs.  Judson 
entered  the  presence  of  the  Burmese  noble- 
woman. "  I  stated  your  case  to  the  queen," 
coolly  announced  her  ladyship,  "  but  her 
majesty  replied,  '  The  teachers  mil  not  die; 
let  them  remain  as  they  are.' "  Mrs.  Judson's 
spirits  dropped  like  a  meteor  from  the  high 
region  of  expectancy  into  an  abyss  of  dis- 
appointment. With  fatal  perception  she 
knew  that  if  the  queen  refused  to  help  there 
was  no  one  who  woidd  dare  to  intercede  on 
their  behalf.  *'  Weary  and  heavy-laden  "  she 
turned    away    and    retraced    her    homeward 

[177] 


Ann  of  Ava 


course  by  way  of  the  prison,  seeking  the 
solace  of  a  few  minutes  in  her  husband's  com- 
pany. At  the  prison  gate  she  was  gruffly 
denied  admittance,  and  for  ten  days  she  was 
forbidden  to  enter,  despite  daily  appeal.  The 
husband  and  wife  then  resorted  to  letter- 
writing,  but  after  a  few  days  the  scheme  was 
discovered  and  their  messenger  punished  by 
beating  and  confinement  in  the  stocks.  They 
themselves  were  fined  about  ten  dollars,  be- 
sides suffering  a  torment  of  fear  for  the  pos- 
sible consequences  of  their  daring. 

On  the  morning  following  the  seizure  of 
her  property  ]Mrs.  Judson  visited  the  gov- 
ernor of  the  city,  there  to  be  met  by  a  vig- 
orous rebuke.  "  You  are  very  bad,"  said  the 
governor  by  way  of  greeting,  "  why  did  you 
tell  the  royal  treasurer  that  you  had  given 
me  so  much  money? "  During  the  process 
of  confiscation  the  officers  had  asked  JNIrs. 
Judson  how  much  money  she  had  paid  the 
governor  and  prison  officers  to  secure  the 
removal  of  the  teachers  from  the  inner  prison. 
Naturally  she  had  told  the  truth  in  reply, 
whereupon  the  officers  went  straightway  to 
the  governor  and  extorted  from  him  the  sum 
[178] 


Ann  of  Ava 


stated.  He  became  furiously  angry  and 
threatened  to  replace  the  teachers  in  their 
former  condition  inside  the  death  prison.  To 
his  accusation  Mrs.  Judson  replied  naively, 
"  The  treasurer  inquired;  what  could  I  say?  " 
"  Say  that  you  had  given  nothing,"  retorted 
the  governor,  "  and  I  would  have  made  the 
teachers  comfortable  in  prison;  but  now  I 
know  not  what  will  be  their  fate."  "  But  I 
cannot  tell  a  falsehood,"  asserted  Mrs.  Jud- 
son, "my  religion  is  different  from  yours;  it 
forbids  prevarication;  and  had  you  stood  by 
me  with  your  knife  raised  I  could  not  have 
said  what  you  suggest."  At  this  juncture 
the  governor's  wife  joined  in  the  conversa- 
tion. "  Very  true ;  what  else  could  she  have 
done?  I  like  such  straightforward  conduct; 
you  must  not  be  angry  with  her."  From  that 
moment  the  governor's  wife  became  her  stead- 
fast friend. 

At  this  welcome  interruption,  Mrs.  Judson 
took  opportunity  to  present  to  the  offended 
magistrate  a  beautiful  opera  glass  recently 
received  from  England,  at  the  same  time 
begging  him  not  to  vent  his  displeasure  upon 
the  innocent   prisoners,  promising  to  recom- 

[179] 


Ann  of  Ava 


pense  him  from  time  to  time  for  the  loss  he 
had  sustained  on  her  account.  *'  You  may 
intercede  for  your  husband  only;  for  your 
sake  he  shall  remain  where  he  is;  but  let  the 
other  prisoners  take  care  of  themselves." 
Mrs.  Judson  pleaded  earnestly  for  Dr.  Price, 
but  the  governor  was  immovable.  That  very 
day  he  was  returned  to  the  dreadful  prison 
filled  with  human  victims,  vermin,  heat,  and 
torture.  After  ten  days  he  was  again  re- 
moved to  the  open  shed,  by  virtue  of  a  prom- 
ised gift  on  his  part  and  gifts  received  from 
Mrs.  Judson. 

From  that  time  on  Mrs.  Judson's  life  be- 
came a  perpetual  series  of  maneuvers  to  se- 
cure the  favor  of  government  officials  on  be- 
half of  her  husband.  Scarcely  a  day  passed 
without  a  visit  to  some  member  of  the  royal 
family  or  government  staff,  when,  with  diplo- 
macy unsurpassed  in  a  woman,  she  pleaded 
the  cause  of  the  foreign  prisoners.  To  no 
avail  were  these  daily  visitations,  save  that 
frequent  encouraging  promises  saved  her 
from  despair,  and  that,  among  those  in  high 
authority,  many  became  her  loyal  friends 
who  later  aided  with  secret  gifts  of  food  and 
[180] 


Ann  of  Ava 


tried  indirectly  to  create  the  impression  in 
the  royal  palace  that  the  Americans  were  in 
no  degree  responsible  for  the  war.  Yet  to 
intercede  with  the  king  or  queen  for  repeal 
of  the  prison  sentence  no  one  had  the  courage 
so  long  as  the  British  troops  were  continually 
defeating  the  armies  of  Burma. 

Meanwhile,  inside  the  prison  enclosure,  Mr. 
Judson  and  his  companions  suffered  persecu- 
tions which  the  intrepid,  resourceful  wife 
could  in  no  wise  avert.  Sometimes  they  were 
forbidden  to  speak  to  one  another  or  to  com- 
municate with  friends  outside.  Again  they 
would  be  compelled  to  pay  bribes  for  the  de- 
livery of  their  food  or  for  the  most  trifling 
favors.  At  times  the  use  of  water  was  pro- 
hibited and  fresh  clothing  denied  them.  Al- 
ways three  pairs  of  heavy  fetters  bound  their 
ankles  so  closely  that  a  shuffle  of  a  few  inches 
was  the  only  possible  step.  Again  and  again 
they  sought  to  close  their  eyes  and  ears  when 
some  fellow  prisoner  was  tortured  with  the 
cord  or  iron  mallet,  or  led  forth  at  the  fatal 
hour  of  three  in  the  afternoon  for  execution. 

Against  this  black  background  of  horrors 
Mr.  Judson's  faith  in  God  was  like  a  shining 

[181] 


Ann  of  Ava 


star.     Often  he  was  heard  repeating  to  him- 
self the  verses  of  Madame  Guyon: 

No  place  I  seek,  but  to  fulfil, 

In  life  and  death,  Thy  lovely  will; 

No  succor  in  my  woes  I  want, 

Except  what  Thou  art  pleased  to  grant.  *' 

Many  a  time  he  expressed  his  belief  in  the 
beneficial  outcome  of  the  war:  *'  Here  have 
I  been,"  said  he,  "  ten  years  preaching  the 
gospel  to  timid  listeners  who  wished  to  em- 
brace the  truth  but  dared  not;  beseeching 
the  emperor  to  grant  liberty  of  conscience 
to  his  people,  but  without  success;  and  now, 
when  all  human  means  seemed  at  an  end, 
God  opens  the  way  by  leading  a  Christian 
nation  to  subdue  the  country.  It  is  possible 
that  my  life  may  be  spared,  if  so,  with  what 
ardor  and  gratitude  shall  I  pursue  my  work; 
and  if  not,  his  will  be  done;  the  door  will  be 
opened  for  others  who  will  do  the  work  bet- 
ter." Thus  spoke  another  "  ambassador  in 
chains,"  with  the  same  ring  in  his  voice,  the 
same  thrill  in  his  soul  as  was  heard  eighteen 
hundred  years  before  in  the  Roman  prison 
where  Saint  Paul,  the  first  foreign  mission- 
ary, was  held  in  captivity. 
[182] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Not  satisfied  with  tormenting  their  imme- 
diate victims,  the  prison  officials  spent  the 
remnant  of  their  ill  temper  upon  JNIrs.  Jud- 
son.  For  days  in  succession  they  forbade  her 
to  enter  the  prison  until  darkness  fell,  after 
which  she  would  be  compelled  to  walk  two 
miles  through  the  city  streets  to  reach  home. 
"  O,  how  many,  many  times,"  she  wrote  later 
to  her  brother-in-law,  "  have  I  returned  from 
that  dreary  prison  at  nine  o'clock  at  night, 
solitary,  and  worn  out  with  fatigue  and 
anxiety,  and  thrown  myself  down  in  that 
same  rocking-chair  which  you  and  Deacon  L. 
provided  for  me  in  Boston,  and  endeavored 
to  invent  some  new  scheme  for  the  release 
of  the  prisoners.  Sometimes,  for  a  moment 
or  two,  my  thoughts  would  glance  toward 
America,  and  my  beloved  friends  there;  but 
for  nearly  a  year  and  a  half,  so  entirely  en- 
grossed was  every  thought  with  present 
scenes  and  sufferings,  that  I  seldom  reflected 
on  a  single  occurrence  of  my  former  life  or 
recollected  that  I  had  a  friend  in  existence 
out  of  Ava." 

To  Mrs.  Judson  the  foreign  prisoners  owed 
everything  that  made   prison   life   tolerable. 

[183] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Her  husband  was  entirely  dependent  upon 
her  for  food  and  clothing,  and  often  her  re- 
sources were  taxed  to  the  utmost  for  a  suffi- 
cient supply.  For  weeks  at  a  time  the  only 
food  she  could  procure  was  rice  savored  with 
ngapee,  a  preparation  of  fish,  not  altogether 
appetizing.  One  day  she  contrived  a  big 
surprise  for  her  husband,  and  sent  it  by 
Moung  Ing  to  the  prison.  It  was  actually 
a  New  England  mince  pie  manufactured  by 
much  ingenuity  and  perseverance  out  of 
buffalo  beef  and  plantains!  The  simple  little 
act  of  devotion  touched  the  imprisoned  man 
to  the  quick.  He  had  seen  his  wife  standing 
like  a  queen  at  the  prison  gate;  he  had  heard 
how  she  walked  through  the  streets  of  Ava 
protected  by  an  almost  enchanted  dignity, 
how  her  matchless  courage  won  the  hearts  of 
jailers  and  nobles  alike.  Almost  could  he 
thank  God  for  trials  which  had  caused  the 
glory  of  her  womanhood  to  shine  with  such 
luster.  But  this  little  touch  of  home  was  too 
much.  He  bowed  his  head  upon  his  knees 
and  the  tears  rolled  down  upon  the  iron  fet- 
ters which  bound  his  ankles. 

Meanwhile  the  war  was  pushed  with  energy 
[184] 


Ann  of  Ava 


and  determination  despite  continual  defeat. 
Bandoola  alone  had  contrived  to  vanquish  the 
British  army,  and,  in  recognition  of  his 
prowess,  was  recalled  to  Ava  to  be  given  com- 
mand of  the  army  sent  to  Rangoon.  While 
in  the  city  he  was  absolute  master  of  affairs, 
honored  beyond  the  king  himself.  To  this 
popular  favorite  Mrs.  Judson  resolved  to  ap- 
peal for  the  release  of  the  imprisoned  mis- 
sionaries. Government  officials  warned  her 
that  it  was  a  foolhardy  act,  but  it  was  her 
last  resort,  and  she  could  not  forbear  the  at- 
tempt. In  secret  Mr.  Judson  wrote  a  peti- 
tion and  one  momentous  day  Mrs.  Judson 
entered  with  fear  and  trembling  into  the 
presence  of  the  proud  general,  surrounded 
by  a  crowd  of  flattering  minions.  One  of 
his  secretaries  took  the  petition  from  her  hand 
and  read  it  aloud  while  Bandoola  listened  at- 
tentively, and  at  its  finish  spoke  graciously 
to  his  suppliant,  bidding  her  come  again  for 
his  answer.  In  a  few  days  she  returned, 
taking  with  her  a  valuable  present.  Ban- 
doola was  not  at  home  to  receive  her,  but  he 
had  left  a  message  with  his  wife  which  she 
modestly  repeated  to  Mrs.  Judson:  "  He  was 

[185] 


Ann  of  Ava 


now  very  busily  employed  in  making  prep- 
arations for  Rangoon,  but  when  he  had  re^ 
taken  that  place  and  expelled  the  British, 
he  would  return  and  release  all  the  prisoners." 
An  empty  boast  for  Bandoola,  and  an  empty 
hope  for  Mrs.  Judson! 

From  that  day  she  gave  up  the  idea  of 
escape  from  prison  until  the  war  should  be 
ended.  Yet  she  must  continue  those  concilia- 
tory visits  to  members  of  the  government,  lest 
the  prisoners  should  forfeit  the  small  measure 
of  favor  granted  them.  The  governor  of  the 
city  always  gave  her  friendly  welcome;  in 
fact,  set  apart  definite  hours  every  other  day 
when  he  counted  on  her  coming  to  talk  with 
him  about  American  customs.  He  also  per- 
mitted her  to  erect  a  little  bamboo  shelter 
in  the  prison  yard,  where  Mr.  Judson  could 
stay  part  of  the  time  by  himself,  and  where 
she  was  sometimes  allowed  at  her  visits  to 
spend  two  or  three  precious  hours  in  his 
company. 

Thus  passed  the  days  of  that  fatal  year, 

one  by  one,  until  in  January  Mrs.  Judson 

was  seen  no  more  in  her  usual  haunts.     Her 

husband,  writhing  in  the  fetters  which  kept 

[186] 


Ann  of  Ava 


him  from  going  to  her  help,  knew  the  cause 
of  his  wife's  absence,  which  lengthened  into 
weeks.  He  alone  realized  the  loneliness  and 
privation  she  was  enduring  in  that  uncivilized 
city,  because,  in  the  little  house  on  the  river 
bank,  a  baby  child  had  come  into  the  broken, 
suffering  lives  of  its  parents.  Had  it  not 
been  for  God,  who  had  never  failed  them 
even  in  their  bitter  affliction,  Mr.  Judson's 
agonizing  fear  for  his  wife  would  have  passed 
endurance.  God's  goodness  would  yet  master 
this  cruel  oppression. 

Twenty  days  after  her  birth  the  baby 
Maria  was  carried  to  the  prison  to  greet  her 
father.  Long  before  this  time  Mrs.  Judson 
had  adopted  the  Burmese  dress,  believing 
that  the  native  costume  would  win  the  favor 
of  the  people.  There  she  stood  at  the  prison 
door,  her  bro^n  curls  drawn  back  from  her 
forehead  and  fastened  with  a  fragrant  coco- 
blossom,  her  richly  colored  gown,  the  gift  of 
the  governor's  wife,  clinging  closely  about 
her  figure  which  seemed  to  gain  height  and 
stateliness  from  the  costume  designed  for 
women  of  smaller  stature.  In  contrast  to 
the  Oriental  hues  of  her  dress,  her  face  was 

[187] 


Ann  of  Ava 


white  and  sad,  but  inexpressibly  sweet.  In 
her  arms  lay  the  pale,  blue-eyed  baby,  crying 
as  hard  as  if  she  understood  the  scene  be- 
fore her.  Mr.  Judson  crawled  forth  to  meet 
them,  and  for  the  first  time  took  his  child  in 
his  arms.  Afterwards,  during  the  long  hours 
in  the  prison  he  composed  some  twenty-four 
stanzas  addressed  to  an  "  Infant  Daughter, 
twenty  days  old,  in  the  condemned  prison 
at  Ava." 

When  Maria  was  two  months  old,  her 
mother  one  day  received  a  frightful  message 
from  the  prison.  Mr.  Judson  and  all  the  for- 
eigners had  been  cast  into  the  inner  prison 
and  bound  with  five  pairs  of  fetters.  His 
little  bamboo  room  had  been  torn  down,  and 
mat,  pillow,  and  other  possessions  seized  by 
the  jailers.  The  defeat  of  Bandoola  and  the 
annihilation  of  his  army,  together  with  the 
advance  of  the  British  forces  toward  Ava, 
had  been  the  cause  of  these  vindictive  meas- 
ures against  the  foreign  prisoners. 

Mrs.  Judson  set  forth  at  once  for  the 
governor's  house  to  see  what  could  be  done. 
The  governor  was  not  at  home,  but,  antici- 
pating her  visit,  had  left  a  message  with  his 
[188] 


Ann  of  Ava 


wife  bidding  her  not  to  ask  to  have  the  extra 
fetters  removed,  nor  the  prisoners  released, 
jor  it  could  not  be  done.  From  the  govern- 
or's house  she  went  across  to  the  prison 
gate  but  was  forbidden  to  enter.  The  still- 
ness of  death  hung  over  the  prison  yard. 
Not  a  white  face  was  visible,  and  not  a  rem- 
nant of  Mr.  Judson's  little  shelter  was  left. 
Behind  that  closed  door  lay  her  husband  in 
the  filth  and  misery  of  the  death  prison,  and 
here  was  she,  only  a  few  rods  distant,  but 
powerless  to  reach  him  or  ease  his  suffering. 
There  was  naught  to  be  done  but  return 
home  and  come  again  at  an  hour  when  the 
governor  was  sure  to  be  accessible. 

In  the  evening  she  traversed  again  the 
two  miles  to  the  governor's  house,  which  was 
opposite  the  prison  gate.  As  she  entered  the 
audience  room  the  governor  looked  up  but 
did  not  speak,  and  his  face  expressed  shame 
and  pretended  anger  combined.  Mrs.  Jud- 
son  opened  the  conversation.  "  Your  lord- 
ship has  hitherto  treated  us  with  the  kindness 
of  a  father.  Our  obligations  to  you  are  very 
great.  We  have  looked  to  you  for  protection 
from    oppression    and    cruelty.      You    have 

[189] 


Ann  of  Ava 


promised  me  particularly  that  you  would 
stand  by  me  to  the  last,  and  though  you 
should  receive  an  order  from  the  king,  you 
would  not  put  Mr.  Judson  to  death.  What 
crime  has  he  committed  to  deserv^e  such  ad- 
ditional punishment?"  At  her  words  the 
old  man  broke  down  and  cried  like  a  child. 
"  I  pity  you,  Tsa-yah-ga-dau,"  the  name  by 
which  he  always  called  Mrs.  Judson,  "  I  knew 
you  would  make  me  feel;  I  therefore  for- 
bade your  application.  But  you  must  be- 
lieve me  when  I  say  I  do  not  wish  to  increase 
the  sufferings  of  the  prisoners.  When  I  am 
ordered  to  execute  them,  the  least  that  I  can 
do  is  to  put  them  out  of  sight.  I  will  now 
tell  you  what  I  have  never  told  you  before, 
that  three  times  I  have  received  intimations 
from  the  queen's  brother  to  assassinate  all  the 
white  prisoners  privately,  but  I  would  not 
do  it.  And  I  now  repeat  it,  though  I  ex- 
ecute all  the  others,  I  will  never  execute  your 
husband.  But  I  cannot  release  him  from 
his  present  confinement  and  you  must  not 
ask  it."  Never  before  had  Mrs.  Judson  seen 
the  governor  display  so  much  feeling  nor 
such  firnmess  in  denymg  her  a  favor.  His 
[190] 


Ann  of  Ava 


words  and  manner  aroused  her  worst  fore- 
bodings for  the  future. 

Meanwhile  the  scene  within  the  death 
prison  in  Ava  was  not  unlike  the  hell  depicted 
by  Dante  and  Milton,  save  that  here  there 
were  a  few  brave  spirits  who  "  were  still  in 
heart  and  conscience  free."  The  Let-ma- 
yoon  was  an  old  wooden  building  about  forty 
feet  long  and  thirty  feet  wide.  It  had  no 
means  of  ventilation  save  crevices  between 
the  flimsy  boards,  no  protection  from  the 
burning  sun  save  the  thin  roof.  Inside  this 
one  room  were  confined  more  than  a  hundred 
prisoners,  men  and  women,  most  of  them 
chained  or  fastened  in  the  stocks.  The  white 
prisoners  were  huddled  in  a  corner,  and  a 
bamboo  pole  was  thrust  between  the  chains 
around  their  ankles,  which  at  night  was 
hoisted  to  an  angle  which  left  only  the 
shoulders  resting  upon  the  ground.  Occa- 
sionally Mrs.  Judson  was  allowed  to  go  to 
the  prison  door  for  five  minutes,  but  mind 
and  heart  reeled  at  the  sight  of  such  misery. 
By  dint  of  repeated  appeals  she  won  permis- 
sion for  the  foreigners  to  eat  their  meals  out- 
side, but  even  this  privilege  was  short-lived. 

[191] 


Ann  of  Ava 


After  more  than  a  month  in  this  vile  place, 
Mr.  Judson  was  taken  sick  with  fever.  His 
wife  perceived  that  he  could  not  live  unless 
removed  to  more  wholesome  quarters.  Con- 
sequently, that  she  might  be  near  the  prison 
and  might  the  more  frequently  entreat  the 
governor  for  mercy,  she  moved  from  their 
house  on  the  river  bank  to  a  one-room  shelter 
which  the  governor  permitted  her  to  build 
on  his  premises.  At  last,  worn  out  by  her 
entreaties,  he  gave  her  an  official  order  for 
Mr.  Judson's  removal,  and  a  permit  for  her 
to  visit  him  at  any  hour  to  give  medicines. 
Accordingly  Mr.  Judson  exchanged  the 
filthy  prison  for  a  little  bamboo  hovel,  so 
low  that  they  could  not  stand  upright,  but, 
as  Mrs.  Judson  said,  "  a  palace  compared 
with  the  place  he  had  left." 

Here,  one  morning  after  breakfast,  Mrs. 
Judson  was  lingering  with  her  husband,  when 
suddenly  a  message  was  received  from  the 
governor  bidding  her  come  to  him  at  once. 
Somewhat  alarmed  by  such  unusual  summons 
she  hastily  obeyed.  To  her  relief  the  gov- 
ernor made  only  some  idle  queries  about  his 
watch  and  engaged  her  in  affable  conversa- 
[192] 


Ann  of  Ava 


tion  for  some  time.  Unsuspectingly  she  took 
her  leave  and  started  in  the  direction  of  her 
room,  when  a  servant  came  running  toward 
her,  his  face  pale  with  fright.  "  The  white 
prisoners  have  all  been  carried  away,"  he 
gasped.  Scarcely  believing  so  amazing  a 
report,  she  hastened  back  to  the  governor, 
who  said  he  had  just  heard  the  news  but  was 
loath  to  tell  her. 

Distractedly  she  ran  into  the  street,  seeking 
to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  fugitives  this  way  or 
that.  But  they  were  nowhere  in  sight.  She 
darted  down  one  street,  then  another,  asking 
every  one  she  met,  but  no  one  would  give 
her  an  answer.  At  last  an  old  woman  de- 
clared that  the  prisoners  had  gone  toward 
the  little  river  on  the  way  to  Amarapoora. 
Mrs.  Judson  ran  half  a  mile  to  the  river 
bank,  but  no  trace  of  the  foreigners.  Some 
friendly  persons  hurried  to  the  place  of  ex- 
ecution, but  lo,  they  were  not  there!  Again 
she  resorted  to  the  governor  for  help,  but 
he  could  only  promise  to  dispatch  a  servant 
to  discover  their  fate.  "  You  can  do  nothing 
more  for  your  husband,"  he  said  with  slow 
emphasis,    "  take   care   of   yourself."     With 

[193] 


Ann  of  Ava 


the  governor's  warning  ringing  in  her  ears 
she  looked  across  to  the  desolate  prison  whose 
silent  walls  gave  no  answer  to  her  restless 
question,  Where,  where  ,are  the  foreign 
prisoners? 


[194] 


XIV 

PRISONERS  IN  A  HEATHEN 
VILLAGE 


A  BURMESE  cart  is  at  best  a  bungling 
LjL  contrivance  for  speed  or  comfort. 
^  JL  Its  wheels  are  simply  round  pieces 
of  timber  with  holes  in  the  center,  through 
wliich  a  pole  is  passed  to  support  the  body 
of  the  conveyance.  Springs  and  cushions 
are  luxuries  unknown.  Through  the  sand 
and  gravel  of  the  hot  season,  and  the  fathom- 
less mud  of  the  rainy  season,  the  cart  lurches 
and  plimges  at  the  uneven  tread  of  the  oxen. 
One  day  in  May,  1825,  a  cart  of  the  usual 
variety  bumped  and  thumped  with  the  usual 
violence  along  the  hot,  dusty  highway  leading 
from  Ava  to  Amarapoora.  Under  its  shabby 
cover  sat  a  motley  group  of  travelers, — two 
little  Burmese  girls,  a  Bengali  sei'vant,  and 
an  American  woman  with  a  baby  in  her  arms. 
From  Ava,  in  the  early  morning,  the  little 
party  had  set  forth,  conveyed  for  a  few 
miles  in  a  covered  boat  on  the  "  little  river," 

[195] 


Ann  of  Ava 


and  then  transferred  to  the  stuffy,  jolting 
cart  for  the  remaining  two  miles. 

At  Amarapoora,  their  expected  destina- 
tion, a  disappointment  fell  upon  the  band  of 
travelers.  The  object  of  their  journey  was 
not  yet  attained,  for  lo,  the  prisoners  who  had 
yesterday  been  removed  by  stealth  from  the 
death  prison  at  Ava,  were  not  to  be  found 
at  Amarapoora.  Only  two  hours  before  they 
had  been  sent  on  their  way  to  a  village  four 
miles  beyond. 

Mrs.  Judson,  the  leader  of  this  little  search 
party,  or  relief  expedition,  gave  orders  to 
proceed,  but  their  cartman  stolidly  refused 
to  go  further.  Under  the  scorching  sun  of 
midday  she  bartered  and  cajoled  for  an  hour, 
until  another  cartman  agreed  to  convey  them 
to  Aungbinle,  the  miserable  goal  of  their 
journey.  Throughout  that  day  of  travel 
Mrs.  Judson  held  the  baby  Maria  in  her  arms 
with  no  relaxation  of  tired  muscles  and 
nerves. 

In  the  late  afternoon,  the  village  of  Aung- 
binle was  reached  and  the  prison,  the  central 
place  of  interest,  sought  with  haste.  It  was 
an  old,  tumble-down  building  in  the  last 
[196] 


Ann  of  Ava 


stages  of  dilapidation.  Some  workmen  were 
on  the  top  trying  to  manufacture  a  roof  of 
leaves.  While  their  abode  was  thus  being 
prepared,  the  prisoners  huddled  together 
under  a  low  projection  outside,  chained  two 
and  two  and  nearly  dead  with  the  immense 
discomfort  of  the  journey. 

There  Mrs.  Judson  found  her  husband,  a 
ghost  of  his  former  self,  even  his  prison  self. 
He  gathered  strength  to  say,  "  Why  have 
you  come?  I  hoped  you  would  not  follow, 
for  you  cannot  live  here." 

Darkness  was  falling  and  Mrs.  Judson 
had  no  shelter  for  the  night.  Might  she  put 
up  a  little  bamboo  house  near  the  prison,  she 
asked  the  jailer?  "No,"  he  answered,  "it 
is  not  customary."  Would  he  then  find  her 
a  place  where  she  might  spend  the  night?  He 
led  her  to  his  own  house,  which  consisted  of 
two  small  rooms  one  of  which  he  placed  at 
her  disposal.  It  was  a  poor  little  place,  half 
filled  with  grain  and  accumulated  dirt,  yet 
it  harbored  Mrs.  Judson  and  her  children 
not  for  one  night  only  but  for  a  long  succes- 
sion of  nights  and  days.  Some  half-boiled 
water  stayed  her  thirst  and  hunger  that  first 

[197] 


Ann  of  Ava 


night,  when  upon  a  mat  spread  over  the 
grain  she  and  her  baby  dropped  in  utter 
exhaustion. 

In  the  morning  she  listened  to  the  mourn- 
ful tale  her  husband  had  to  tell  of  the  march 
of  the  prisoners  from  Ava  to  Aungbinle. 
Scarcely  had  she  left  the  prison  yard  at 
Ava  two  days  ago — so  the  story  ran — when 
a  jailer  rushed  in,  seized  JMr.  Judson  by  the 
arm,  stripped  off  his  clothing,  except  shirt 
and  pantaloons,  tore  off  his  fetters,  tied  a 
rope  around  his  waist  and  dragged  him  to 
the  court-house,  where  he  found  the  other  for- 
eign prisoners  already  assembled  in  a  discon- 
solate group.  As  soon  as  he  arrived  they 
were  tied  together  two  by  two  and  the  ropes 
given  like  reins  into  the  hands  of  slaves  who 
were  to  be  their  drivers.  The  lainine-woon, 
the  officer  in  charge,  mounted  his  horse  and 
gave  orders  for  the  procession  to  start. 

It  was  then  eleven  o'clock  in  the  day,  in 
the  month  of  May,  one  of  the  hottest  months 
of  the  year.  Hats  and  shoes  had  been  seized 
by  the  jailers,  so  there  was  no  protection 
from  the  direct  rays  of  the  sim  above  or  the 
sun-baked  earth  beneath.  They  had  pro- 
[198] 


A  Burmese  Cart 


Ann  of  Ava 


ceeded  about  half  a  mile  when  JMr.  Judson's 
feet  became  blistered  and  his  fevered  body 
so  exhausted  that,  as  they  crossed  the  "  little 
river,"  he  would  gladly  have  thrown  himself 
into  its  cool  waters  and  escaped  his  misery 
forever.  But  quickly  he  dispelled  the  thought 
as  cowardice  unworthy  a  Christian  man. 
They  had  still  eight  jniles  to  travel! 

Before  long  the  prisoners'  bare  feet  became 
entirely  destitute  of  skin.  Every  step  was 
like  treading  upon  burning  coals,  yet  their 
brutal  keepers  goaded  them  on  without 
merc3^  When  about  half  way  they  stopped 
for  water  and  JNIr.  Judson  piteously  begged 
the  lamine-woon  to  allow  him  to  ride  his 
horse  a  mile  or  two  as  it  seemed  as  if  he 
could  not  take  another  step.  A  scathing, 
contemptuous  look  was  the  only  reply  he 
received.  He  then  asked  Captain  Laird,  with 
w^hom  he  was  tied,  and  who  was  a  robust 
man,  if  he  might  lean  upon  his  shoulder  as 
he  walked.  Captain  Laird  consented,  and  so 
long  as  his  strength  lasted,  supported  his 
fellow  traveler  as  thej^  toiled  along  together. 
Just  as  the  limit  of  endurance  was  reached, 
a   Bengali  servant  of  Mr.   Gouger's  joined 

[199] 


Ann  of  Ava 


the  ranks,  and  perceiving  ]\Ir.  Judson's 
agony,  tore  off  his  Indian  head-dress  made 
of  cloth  and  gave  half  to  his  master  and  half 
to  Mr.  Judson.  It  was  the  work  of  a  few 
seconds  to  wrap  the  cloth  around  the  bruised 
feet  and  resume  the  march  which  must  not 
be  halted  for  sick  or  wounded  prisoners. 
The  Bengali  then  walked  by  Mr.  Judson's 
side  and  almost  carried  him  the  rest  of  the 
way.  Had  it  not  been  for  his  timely  help 
Mr.  Judson  would  probably  have  met  the 
fate  of  their  Greek  fellow-prisoner  who  fell 
by  the  way,  was  beaten  and  dragged  until 
his  drivers  were  themselves  weary,  then  car- 
ried in  a  cart  to  Amarapoora,  where  he  died 
an  hour  after  his  arrival. 

At  Amarapoora  the  lamine-woon  reluc- 
tantly decided  to  encamp  for  the  night,  realiz- 
ing that  his  prisoners  would  perish  on  the 
way  if  forced  to  go  on  to  Aungbinle  that 
day.  An  old  shed  was  secured  for  their  rest- 
ing-place, but  what  mockery  was  it  of  the 
word  when  none  of  the  necessities  of  the 
night  were  provided  to  ease  their  dreadful 
fatigue!  Moved  by  feminine  curiosity  the 
wife  of  the  lamine-woon  came  to  look  upon 
[200] 


Ann  of  Ava 


the  foreign  prisoners,  and  something  more 
than  curiosity  stirred  within  her  at  the  sight. 
She  went  away  and  ordered  fruit,  sugar,  and 
tamarinds  for  their  supper,  and  rice  for  their 
breakfast,  which  was  the  only  food  supply 
granted  the  famished  men  on  their  journey. 

In  the  morning  no  member  of  the  battered 
regiment  was  able  to  walk,  and  carts  were 
furnished  for  their  transfer  to  Aungbinle. 
As  they  neared  the  journey's  end,  they  spent 
their  small  residue  of  strength  surmising  the 
fate  which  was  to  befall  them.  Upon  sight 
of  the  dilapidated  prison  they  concluded  with 
one  accord  that  they  were  to  be  burned  to 
death,  just  as  the  rumor  circulated  at  Ava 
had  predicted.  They  were  endeavoring  to 
fortify  their  souls  for  this  awful  doom  when 
a  band  of  workmen  appeared  and  began  re- 
pairing the  prison.  It  was  about  this  time 
that  Mrs.  Judson  came  to  the  end  of  her 
toilsome  journey  in  the  prison  yard  at 
Aungbinle. 

Life  in  this  uncivilized  inland  village 
marked  a  new  stage  in  the  suffering  career 
of  Mrs.  Judson.  It  was  now  a  fight  for 
mere  existence,  for  the  bare  necessities  which 

[2011 


Ann  of  Ava 


hold  body  and  soul  together.  The  village 
boasted  no  market  for  food  supplies  and 
scarcely  a  roof  to  cover  the  homeless  stranger. 
With  her  husband  chained  in  the  prison,  her 
three-months-old  baby  dependent  upon  her 
for  the  very  breath  of  life,  two  Burmese 
children  clamoring  for  food  and  raiment,  and 
a  forlorn  little  heathen  village  as  a  back- 
ground. Problem  would  hardly  spell  Mrs. 
Judson's  predicament. 

The  first  of  the  new  series  of  tragic  ad- 
ventures befell  the  Judson  family  the  next 
day  after  their  arrival  in  Aungbinle.  Small- 
pox entered  their  household  and  fastened 
itself  upon  Mary  Hasseltine,  one  of  the  Bur- 
mese girls  whom  they  had  adopted.  Child 
though  she  was,  Mary  had  been  ]Mrs.  Jud- 
son's only  helper  in  the  care  of  the  baby 
Maria.  Now  the  overtaxed  mother  must 
divide  her  time  between  the  sick  child  at  home 
and  the  sick  husband  in  prison,  who  was  still 
suffering  from  fever  and  his  sorely-mangled 
feet.  From  da^vn  to  dark  Mrs.  Judson  went 
from  the  house  to  the  prison,  from  the  prison 
to  the  house,  back  and  forth,  the  baby  borne 
always  in  her  arms.  Though  she  contracted 
[202] 


Ann  of  Ava 


a  mild  form  of  smallpox  herself,  she  still 
continued  her  round  of  ministrations,  serving 
not  only  her  own  family,  but  the  entire  com- 
munity as  well,  since  every  child,  young  and 
old,  who  had  never  had  smallpox  was  brought 
to  her  for  vaccination  I  She  had  experi- 
mented upon  the  jailer's  children  with  such 
success  that  her  fame  spread  through  the 
village.  The  foreign  lady  evidently  pos- 
sessed some  charm  whereby  to  ward  off  or 
lighten  disease. 

Gradually  her  patients  recovered  and  the 
prisoners  were  established  in  more  comfort- 
able condition  than  in  the  death  prison  at 
Ava,  being  bound  with  one  pair  of  fetters 
in  lieu  of  three  and  five.  But  for  Mrs.  Jud- 
son  the  limit  of  physical  endurance  was 
reached.  She  had  spent  her  strength  for 
others'  needs  until  there  was  none  left  to 
her  credit  and  a  miserable  tropical  disease 
took  possession  of  her  worn  body.  She  be- 
came so  weak  that  she  could  barely  crawl  to 
the  prison.  Yet  in  this  pitiable  condition 
she  set  forth  in  a  Burmese  cart  to  go  to  Ava 
in  quest  of  medicines  and  food.  Upon  reach- 
ing the  deserted  house  on  the  river  bank  she 

[203] 


Ann  of  Ava 


was  stricken  with  such  a  desperate  attack  that 
death  seemed  the  only  possible  outcome,  and 
to  die  near  her  husband's  prison  in  Aung- 
binle,  the  one  remaining  desire  in  life.  By 
taking  small  doses  of  laudanum  at  intervals 
she  succeeded  in  quelling  the  disease  to  such 
an  extent,  that  though  unable  to  stand,  she 
made  the  return  journey  by  boat  on  the  river 
and  by  cart  through  the  mud  to  Aungbinle. 

In  sickness,  home  becomes  the  one  charmed 
spot  on  earth,  but  what  a  home-coming  was 
this!  The  end  of  the  journey  measured  the 
end  of  endurance.  The  last  vestige  of 
strength  vanished  and  her  tremendous  power 
of  will  was  overthro^vn  by  the  violence  of  the 
disease.  The  Bengali  cook,  who  had  been 
left  in  charge,  came  out  to  help  his  mistress, 
but  at  sight  of  her  he  burst  into  tears,  so 
changed  and  emaciated  had  she  become  in 
the  few  days'  absence.  She  stumbled  into 
the  little  crowded  room  and  dropped  upon 
the  mat,  where  she  lay  for  two  months,  help- 
less with  pain  and  weakness. 

During  Mrs.  Judson's  sickness  the  Ben- 
gali cook  came  valiantly  to  the  rescue  of  the 
afflicted  family.  Day  after  day  he  provided 
[204] 


Ann  of  Ava 


and  cooked  the  food,  sometimes  walking  long 
distances  for  fuel  and  water,  oftentimes  de- 
laying his  o^vn  meal  until  night-time  that  his 
patients'  needs  might  be  first  supplied.  He 
forgot  caste  and  wages  in  his  anxiety  to 
serve  the  foreigners  whom  he  loved.  To  this 
Hindu  servant  the  Judson  family  owed  the 
preservation  of  their  lives  during  those  weeks 
of  dire  want  and  misery. 

Upon  the  youngest  of  their  number  fell 
the  sharp  edge  of  their  misfortunes.  Be- 
cause of  her  mother's  sickness  the  baby 
JNIaria  was  deprived  of  her  natural  food 
supply  and  no  milk  could  be  obtained  in 
the  village.  Night  after  night  the  sick 
mother  was  compelled  to  listen  to  the  wails 
of  her  child  who  was  crying  for  food,  and 
there  was  none  to  give!  By  sending  presents 
to  the  jailers  Mrs.  Judson  won  permission 
for  her  husband  to  carry  the  baby  through 
the  village  begging  a  few  drops  of  nourish- 
ment from  those  Burmese  mothers  who  had 
young  children.  Afterwards,  in  narrating 
her  experiences  to  the  home  people  in 
America,  Mrs.  Judson  wrote :  "  I  now  began 
to  think  the  very  afflictions  of  Job  had  come 

[205] 


Ann  of  Ava 


upon  me.  When  in  health,  I  could  bear  the 
various  trials  and  vicissitudes  through  which 
I  was  called  to  pass.  But  to  be  confined 
with  sickness  and  unable  to  assist  those  who 
were  so  dear  to  me,  when  in  distress,  was 
almost  too  much  for  me  to  bear,  and  had  it 
not  been  for  the  consolations  of  religion,  and 
an  assured  conviction  that  every  additional 
trial  was  ordered  by  infinite  love  and  mercy, 
I  must  have  sunk  under  my  accumulated 
sufferings." 

To  the  stricken  band  of  prisoners  there 
came  one  day  a  faint  gleam  of  hope.  The 
pakan-woon  had  been  convicted  of  high 
treason  to  the  empire  and  promptly  executed. 
Now  this  pakan-woon  was  the  Burmese  offi- 
cer who  boldly  aspired  to  take  Bandoola's 
place  after  his  defeat  and  death.  He  made 
fair  promises  of  large  pay  to  the  soldiers  and 
guaranties  of  victory  over  the  British  army, 
so  that  the  king  was  dazzled  by  his  easy- 
going assurance  and  committed  all  power 
into  his  hands.  He  was  the  bitter  enemy  of 
foreigners  and  it  was  during  his  high-handed 
reign  that  the  foreign  prisoners  were  removed 
from  Ava  to  Aungbinle.  They  now  learned 
[206] 


Ann  of  Ava 


for  a  certainty  that  he  had  sent  them  to  the 
remote  village  for  the  express  purpose  of 
slaughtering  them  there,  and  of  coming 
himself  to  witness  the  gruesome  spectacle. 
Frequently  the  news  had  spread  through  the 
prison  of  his  expected  arrival,  but  for  what 
devilish  intent  no  one  had  suspected.  His 
death  brought  extension  of  life  and  hope  to 
the  war  captives  at  Aungbinle. 

It  was  not  until  six  months  had  been  lived 
out  in  the  country  prison  and  its  environs 
that  hope  of  escape  definitely  entered  the 
Judson  household.  One  day  in  November, 
1825,  a  courier  came  to  their  door  bearing  a 
message  from  Mrs.  Judson's  loyal  friend, 
the  governor,  in  Ava.  Last  night,  so  the 
letter  read,  an  edict  was  issued  in  the  royal 
palace  for  Mr.  Judson's  release  from  prison. 
The  news  was  corroborated  later  in  the  day 
by  an  official  order  repealing  the  prison  sen- 
tence. With  a  joyful  heart  Mrs.  Judson 
made  preparations  for  departure  in  the  early 
morning,  when,  lo,  her  plans  were  frustrated 
by  the  dastardly  conduct  of  the  jailers,  who 
insisted  that  Mrs.  Judson's  name  was  not 
mentioned  in  the  official  document,  therefore 

[207] 


Ann  of  Ava 


they  could  not  permit  her  to  leave  the  place. 
"  But  I  was  not  sent  here  as  a  prisoner," 
she  protested,  "  you  have  no  authority  over 
me."  But  no,  she  could  not  go,  and  the 
villagers  should  not  be  allowed  to  provide  a 
cart  for  her  conveyance.  At  this  juncture 
Mr.  Judson  was  removed  from  the  prison 
to  the  jailer's  house,  where,  by  threats  and 
persuasions  added  to  gifts  of  provisions, 
they  agreed  to  let  Mrs.  Judson  depart  with 
her  husband. 

It  was  noon  the  next  day  when  the  Judson 
family,  accompanied  by  an  official  guard,  left 
Aungbinle  to  return  to  Ava.  At  Amara- 
poora  on  the  way  Mr.  Judson  was  detained 
for  examination,  and  forwarded  thence  to  the 
court-house  at  Ava.  With  her  little  body- 
guard of  children  Mrs.  Judson  pursued  her 
own  course  and  reached  the  house  on  the 
river  bank  at  dusk. 

In  the  morning  she  went  in  search  of  her 
husband  and  to  her  dismay  found  him  again 
in  prison,  though  not  the  death  prison.  She 
hastened  to  her  old  friend,  the  governor,  and 
besought  an  explanation.  He  informed  her 
that  Mr.  Judson  had  been  appointed  inter- 
[208] 


Ann  of  Ava 


preter  for  the  Burman  army  in  its  negotia- 
tions with  the  British  and  that  he  was  to 
go  straightway  to  the  army  camp  at  JNlaloun. 

Accordingly,  on  the  morrow  Mrs.  Judson 
bade  her  husband  farewell,  while  he  em- 
barked on  the  crude  little  river  craft  for  the 
passage  to  Maloun.  Upon  arrival  at  camp, 
he  was  compelled  to  enter  at  once  upon  his 
task  as  interpreter,  without  so  much  as  an 
hour  to  recuperate  his  lost  energy.  His  stay 
in  camp  lasted  six  weeks  and  entailed  suffer- 
ings equal  to  his  prison  experience,  with  the 
difference  that  chains  were  subtracted  and 
hard  work  added. 

JSIeantime  ISIrs.  Judson  drew  a  breath  of 
relief,  supposing  that  the  value  of  her  hus- 
band's services  as  interpreter  would  insure 
him  kind  treatment  in  the  Burmese  camp. 
Ignorance  of  liis  actual  situation  was  a  mercy, 
for  there  was  no  room  in  her  life  at  this  time 
for  the  added  burden  of  anxiety.  Day  by 
day  her  power  of  resistance  grew  less  until 
she  fell  prey  to  that  horrible  disease,  spotted 
fever.  On  the  very  day  when  she  first 
recognized  its  fatal  symptoms,  a  Burmese 
woman  came  to  the  door  and  volunteered  her 

[209] 


Ann  of  Ava 


services  as  nurse  for  ^laria.  This  incident 
was  a  direct  expression  of  God's  watchful 
care,  because  repeatedly  she  had  sought  to 
find  a  nurse  for  the  baby  and  failed.  Now 
in  her  exigency  the  help  came  without  solici- 
tation. 

Once  given  entrance,  the  fever  ran  its 
course  with  violence.  At  the  outset  Mrs. 
Judson  measured  her  weakness  against  its 
virulence  and  concluded  it  must  be  a  losing 
fight.  As  the  disease  developed  she  tried 
to  think  how  she  could  provide  for  little 
Maria  in  the  event  of  her  death  and  decided 
to  commit  her  to  the  care  of  a  Portuguese 
woman.  As  her  mind  was  grappling  with 
this  painful  question,  reason  failed,  and  trials 
and  tribulations  were  swept  into  a  whirl  of 
delirium. 

At  this  crucial  moment  Dr.  Price  was  re- 
leased from  prison  and  hastened  to  her  bed- 
side. Had  the  doctor's  coming  been  delayed 
a  few  hours  she  would  probably  have  passed 
beyond  human  aid.  In  fact,  the  Burmese 
neighbors,  in  their  childish  curiosity,  had  al- 
ready crowded  into  the  house  to  look  with 
wondering  eyes  upon  the  solemn  spectacle 
[210] 


Ann  of  Avxi 


of  death.  "  She  is  dead,"  they  said  in  awe- 
stricken  tones,  "  and  if  the  king  of  angels 
should  come  in  he  could  not  save  her." 

Yet  Dr.  Price  bent  all  his  energies  to  the 
task  of  restoring  the  life  which  was  being 
given  in  vicarious  sacrifice  for  the  Burmese 
people,  though  they  knew  it  not.  Vigorous 
measures  were  prescribed;  her  head  was 
shaved  and  blisters  applied  to  head  and  feet; 
the  Bengali  servant  was  ordered  to  press 
upon  her  the  nourishment  she  had  refused 
for  days.  As  consciousness  gradually  re- 
turned, after  days  of  delirium,  her  first  real- 
ization was  of  this  faithful  servant  standing 
by  her  bedside  urging  her  to  take  a  little 
wine  and  water. 

By  microscopic  degrees,  health,  or  its 
semblance,  came  again  to  the  life  shattered 
by  anxiety,  privation,  and  disease.  One  day 
during  the  slow  convalescence,  while  she  was 
still  too  weak  to  stand  upon  her  feet,  a  mes- 
sage was  brought  to  the  sick  room  which  left 
a  panic  of  joy  and  fear  in  its  train.  Mr. 
Judson  had  been  sent  back  to  Ava  and  was 
under  detention  at  the  court-house.  What  was 
to  be  his  fate  the  messenger  could  not  say  I 

[211] 


Ann  of  Ava 


During  the  night  Mr.  Judson  had  entered 
the  city  and  had  traversed  the  very  street 
which  passed  his  own  door!  A  feeble  little 
light  glimmered  within  telling  him  the  house 
was  not  unoccupied.  But  what  unknown  and 
fearful  events  might  have  taken  place  in 
those  six  weeks  of  absence!  Oh,  for  one  look 
behind  that  closed  door!  He  begged,  bribed, 
cajoled,  and  threatened  the  jailers  who  con- 
stituted his  guard,  but  to  no  avail.  They 
pleaded  the  official  command  to  deliver  their 
prisoner  without  delay  at  the  court-house, 
which  command  they  dared  not  disobey. 
Consequently,  Mr.  Judson  finished  the  night 
in  an  outbuilding  near  the  court-house,  specu- 
lating anxiously  as  to  his  probable  fate.  On 
the  river  journey  to  Maloun  he  had  chanced 
to  see  the  official  communication  which  ac- 
companied him  to  Ava,  "  We  have  no  further 
use  for  Yoodthan,"  the  message  read,  *'  we 
therefore  return  him  to  the  golden  city." 
What  new  task  would  the  "  golden  city  "  ex- 
act of  its  foreign  captive  before  the  price  of 
liberty  should  be  fully  paid? 

On  the  morrow  Mr.  Judson  was  summoned 
before  the  court  session  and  hurriedly  ex- 
[212] 


Ann  of  Ava 


amined.  Not  one  of  his  acquaintances  was 
present  at  court  that  morning  to  identify  him 
and  explain  the  curt  message  forwarded  from 
Maloun.  "  From  what  place  was  he  sent  to 
Maloun?"  inquired  the  presiding  officer. 
"  From  Aungbinle,"  was  the  reply.  *'  Let 
him  then  be  returned  thither,"  was  the  care- 
less verdict.  The  case  was  thus  summarily 
disposed  of,  and  the  plaintiff  dispatched  to 
an  out-of-the-way  shed,  serving  as  temporary 
prison,  to  await  removal  to  Aungbinle.  In 
these  obscure  quarters  he  spent  a  restless, 
tantalizing  day.  Here  he  was  in  the  same 
city  with  his  wife  and  child,  separated  only 
by  a  few  minutes'  distance,  yet  powerless  to 
go  to  them  or  to  hear  one  word  of  intelli- 
gence concerning  them.  Tantalus,  parched 
with  thirst  and  standing  forever  in  the  water 
he  could  not  reach,  was  in  no  worse  predica- 
ment. 

Toward  night  ^loung  Ing  came  to  his  re- 
lief, having  searched  in  vain  for  him  through- 
out the  day.  At  intervals  this  faithful  Bur- 
mese had  returned  to  the  house  to  report  his 
fruitless  quest  to  the  waiting  wife.  For  her, 
too,  the  day  had  been  almost  insupportable. 

[213] 


Ann  of  Ava 


The  "  last  straw  "  had  been  Moung  Ing's  dis- 
covery that  her  husband  was  ordered  back  to 
Aungbinle.  She  could  scarcely  breathe  after 
the  shock  of  these  tidings.  If  ever  in  her  life 
Mrs.  Judson  felt  the  potency  of  prayer  it 
was  on  that  dreadful  day.  "  I  could  not  rise 
from  my  couch,"  she  afterwards  wrote,  "  I 
could  make  no  efforts  to  secure  my  husband; 
I  could  only  plead  with  that  great  and  pow- 
erful Being  who  has  said,  '  Call  upon  me  in 
the  day  of  trouble,  and  I  will  hear,  and  thou 
shalt  glorify  me,'  and  who  made  me  at  this 
time  feel  so  powerfully  this  promise  that  I 
became  quite  composed,  feeling  assured  that 
my  prayers  would  be  answered." 

It  was  in  this  desperate  situation  that  Mrs. 
Judson  resolved  to  appeal  once  again  to  the 
governor,  who  had  so  many  times  befriended 
them.  "  Entreat  him,"  she  instructed  Moung 
Ing,  "  to  make  one  more  effort  for  the  release 
of  Mr.  Judson,  and  to  prevent  his  being  sent 
to  the  country  prison,"  where,  she  thought 
wistfully,  "  I  cannot  follow  and  he  must 
needs  suffer  much." 

For  the  last  time  the  friendly  governor 
came  to  the  relief  of  the  foreign  lady  who 
[214] 


Ann  of  Ava 


had  so  fully  captured  his  homage.  He  sent 
a  petition  to  the  high  court  of  the  empire, 
offered  himself  as  security  for  Mr.  Judson 
and  won  his  release.  Early  the  next  morn- 
ing Mr.  Judson  was  summoned  to  the  gov- 
ernor's house,  there  to  receive  the  prize  that 
is  beyond  rubies,  his  freedom.  With  a  step 
more  rapid,  a  heart  more  hopeful,  than  for 
two  years  past,  he  hurried  through  the  streets 
of  Ava  to  his  own  home. 

The  door  of  his  house  stood  open  as  he 
approached,  and,  unobserved  by  any  one,  he 
entered.  There,  crouching  in  the  ashes  be- 
fore a  pan  of  coals  sat  a  grimy,  half-clothed 
Burmese  woman,  holding  in  her  arms  a  puny, 
puny  baby  so  covered  with  dirt  that  never 
for  a  moment  did  Mr.  Judson  dream  it  could 
be  his  own  child.  He  crossed  the  threshold 
into  the  next  room,  where,  lying  across  the 
foot  of  the  bed,  as  if  she  had  fallen  there, 
was  the  figure  of  a  woman.  Her  face  was 
white,  her  features  drawn  and  sharp,  and 
her  whole  form  shrunken  and  emaciated. 
Her  brown  curls  had  been  cut  off  and  an  old 
cotton  cap  covered  her  head.  Everything  in 
the  room  spoke  of  neglect  and  ignorance  in 

[215] 


Ann  of  Ava 


keeping  with  the  face  of  the  Burmese  nurse 
who  held  the  baby  before  the  fire.  In  these 
squalid  surroundings  lay  the  beautiful,  high- 
spirited  woman  who  for  fourteen  years  had 
never  once  "  counted  her  life  dear  unto  her- 
self "  if  only  she  might  follow  the  companion 
of  her  heart  in  his  high  path  of  service  for 
God  and  man.  "  In  journeyings  often,  in 
perils  in  the  city,  in  perils  in  the  wilderness, 
in  perils  in  the  sea,  in  perils  among  false 
brethren;  in  labor  and  travail,  in  watchings 
often,  in  hunger  and  thirst,  in  fastings  often, 
in  cold  and  nakedness;  besides  those  things 
that  are  without  " — daily  anxiety  for  the  little 
struggling  Burmese  church, — thus  ran  the 
course  of  their  Christlike  sacrifice. 

It  may  have  been  a  tear  which  glanced  her 
cheek,  or  a  breath  which  came  too  near,  or 
the  sense  of  a  dear,  familiar  presence  more 
palpable  than  touch,  for  Ann  Judson  stirred 
uneasily  in  her  sleep  and  opened  her  brown 
eyes — to  look  into  her  husband's  face. 


[216] 


XV 

THE  BRITISH  CAMP 


UNDER  the  tropical  moonlight  which 
cast  a  shimmer  of  gold  upon  the 
dark  waters  of  the  Irawadi,  a 
wounded  British  officer  kept  lonel/  vigil. 
He  had  been  traitorously  attacked  by  the 
Burmese  boatmen  who  manned  his  canoe, 
robbed  of  his  possessions,  sorely  injured  in 
the  fray,  and  abandoned  to  his  fate  upon  the 
deserted  shore.  For  long,  restless  hours  he 
watched  for  the  passage  of  a  friendly  craft 
up  or  down  stream. 

As  moonlight  faded  into  daylight,  a  large 
rowboat,  escorted  by  half  a  dozen  golden 
boats,  was  seen  approaching  from  the  direc- 
tion of  Ava.  The  wounded  man  waved  a 
signal  of  distress,  which  was  instantly  heeded 
by  the  passing  flotilla.  A  skiff  was  sent 
skimming  over  the  water  to  his  rescue,  and 
as  if  by  magic  he  found  himself  on  the  deck 
of  a  commodious  rowboat,  where  the  welcome 
accorded  him  was  more  wondrous  than  ma- 
gician's art.     Had  thoughts  of  home  woven 

[217] 


Ann  of  Ava 


a  spell  about  his  senses,  or  was  he  in  solid 
reality  looking  into  the  face  of  a  woman  of 
his  own  race,  the  first  white  woman  he  had 
seen  for  more  than  a  year  in  his  military 
exile  in  Burma?  She  stood  on  the  little  deck 
leaning  upon  the  arm  of  a  worn,  scholarly- 
looking  man,  evidently  her  husband.  She 
herself  was  almost  unearthly  in  her  ethereal 
beauty,  while  her  gentle  speech  fell  upon  his 
ear  like  "  a  household  hymn  of  his  youth." 
His  wounds  were  dressed  and  his  head  band- 
aged by  a  hand  which  had  caught  the  art  of 
deft  and  tender  touch. 

For  two  days,  as  the  phalanx  of  boats 
glided  slowly  down  the  river  toward  the 
British  camp,  the  wounded  lieutenant  dis- 
coursed with  his  new  friends,  reveling  in  the 
sense  of  home  their  companionship  afforded 
him.  In  the  daytime  warmth  and  the  cool 
of  moonlight  evenings  they  sat  on  deck  re- 
counting experiences,  novel,  thrilling,  and  sad, 
which  had  been  lived  out  in  the  heathen  land 
of  their  exile.  Mrs.  Judson,  for  she  it  was, 
sat  in  a  large,  swinging  chair,  in  which  her 
slight,  graceful  form  seemed  like  a  spirit 
scarcely  touching  this  material  world.  At 
[218] 


Ann  of  Ava 


her  feet  lay  the  baby  Maria,  a  poor  little 
delicate  baby,  whose  very  frailty  drew  out  the 
mother's  fondest  love.  At  her  side  sat  her 
husband,  watching  with  tender  solicitude  the 
play  of  her  sensitive  face  as  she  talked.  The 
British  lieutenant,  man  of  action  that  he  was, 
listened  spellbound  to  the  vivid  charm  of  her 
speech,  made  doubly  eloquent  in  the  presence 
of  the  tragic  experiences  of  the  last  two 
years,  revealing  at  once  her  sweetness  of 
spirit  and  the  alert  vigor  of  her  mind. 

As  the  time  came  to  part  with  the  two 
people  who  had  touched  his  life  so  briefly 
yet  so  indelibly,  the  army  officer  lingered 
wistfully,  reluctant  to  pass  out  of  their 
presence.  As  he  looked  for  the  last  time 
into  Mrs.  Judson's  face,  while  she  was  giving 
directions  in  Burmese  to  his  new  boatmen, 
tears  gathered  in  his  eyes,  for  with  prophetic 
insight  the  British  lieutenant  foresaw  that  so 
delicate  a  spirit  could  not  long  remain  in 
this  human  world. 

For  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Judson  the  trip  down 
the  Irawadi  in  that  month  of  March,  1826, 
was  like  a  foretaste  of  heaven.  Many  years 
after  the  events  recorded  in  these  chapters, 

[219] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Adoniram  Judson  was  in  the  midst  of  a 
group  of  people  who  were  discussing  a 
mooted  question.  What  was  the  keenest 
pleasure  ever  experienced  by  mortal  man 
since  the  world  began?  Some  cited  one  in- 
stance, some  another,  revealing  what  men  of 
different  ages  had  regarded  as  supreme  en- 
joyment, when  Mr.  Judson  interposed. 
**  Pooh,"  said  he,  "  these  men  were  not  quali- 
fied to  judge.  I  know  of  a  much  higher 
pleasure  than  that.  What  do  you  think  of 
floating  down  the  Irawadi  on  a  cool,  moon- 
light evening,  with  your  wife  by  your  side, 
and  your  baby  in  your  arms,  jree — all  free? 
But  you  cannot  understand  it,  either ;  it  needs 
a  twenty-one  months'  qualification,  and  I  can 
never  regret  my  twenty-one  months  of  misery, 
when  I  recall  that  one  delicious  thrill.  I 
think  I  have  had  a  better  appreciation  of 
what  heaven  may  be  ever  since." 

Escape  from  Ava  had  been  purchased  on 
no  easy  terms  for  either  foreigner  or  Bur- 
mans.  In  its  childish  egotism,  the  Burmese 
government  had  persistently  declined  all 
overtures  for  peace,  imagining,  like  Mr. 
Micawber,  that  something  would  "  turn  up  " 
[220] 


Ann  of  Ava 


to  enable  them  to  drive  the  British  army  out 
of  the  country.  But  now  that  foreign  army 
was  actually  advancing  toward  the  capital 
city  itself,  and  consternation  was  rife.  Two 
foreigners,  Dr.  Price  and  an  English  officer, 
were  dispatched  to  the  British  camp  to  sue 
for  peace,  while  within  the  nation's  capital, 
panic-stricken  citizens  built  stockades  and 
fortifications  with  furious  energy.  The  house 
on  the  river  bank  where  the  Judsons  once 
lived  was  torn  down  and  the  ground  leveled 
for  the  placing  of  cannon. 

Meantime  the  embassage  returned  and  an- 
nounced the  treaty  terms  stipulated  by  Sir 
Archibald  Campbell,  commander-in-chief  of 
the  British  army.  The  Burmese  government 
must  pay  the  sum  of  ten  million  rupees,  and 
must  instantly  surrender  all  foreign  prison- 
ers. The  Judson  family  was  specified  by 
name  in  this  latter  order,  upon  hearing  which 
the  king  exclaimed,  "  They  are  not  English; 
they  are  my  people,  and  shall  not  go."  For 
the  past  three  months  Mr.  Judson's  services 
as  interpreter  and  counselor  had  become  so 
indispensable  to  the  Burmese  government 
that  consent  to  his  departure  would  be  re- 


Ann  of  Ava 


luctantly  yielded.  At  that  time  both  Mr. 
Judson  and  his  wife  were  fully  convinced  that 
they  would  never  be  permitted  to  leave  Ava. 

As  soon  as  peace  terms  were  proclaimed 
in  the  royal  palace,  the  Burmese  officials  be- 
gan to  haggle  and  shuffle,  thinking  that  some- 
how the  demands  might  be  evaded,  at  the 
same  time  accusing  the  foreigners  of  double- 
dealing  for  not  securing  milder  terms.  Again 
and  again  they  procrastinated,  thinking,  in 
their  ignorance  of  military  principles,  that 
even  though  the  money  should  be  paid  the 
British  army  would  still  continue  its  march 
upon  Ava.  At  last  Sir  Archibald  Campbell 
issued  an  ultimatum:  if  the  sum  demanded 
should  be  paid  before  he  reached  Ava,  peace 
would  be  concluded,  if  not,  then  war  to  the 
finish  I  All  foreign  prisoners  who  chose  to 
leave  Ava  must  be  released  at  once  else  peace 
would  be  forfeited.  Some  Burmese  officials 
remarked  to  Mr.  Judson,  "  You  will  not 
leave  us;  you  shall  become  a  great  man  if 
you  will  remain."  Adroitly  he  replied  that 
his  wife  wished  to  go,  therefore  he  must 
follow. 

At  last  the  indemnity  was  paid,  the  prison- 
[222] 


Ann  of  Ava 


ers  released  from  Aimgbinle  and  sent  either 
to  their  homes,  or  down  the  river  to  the  Brit- 
ish camp,  and — war  tvas  over!  On  the  banks 
of  the  river  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Judson  bade  af- 
fectionate farewell  to  the  friendly  governor 
at  whose  house  they  had  spent  the  last  two 
months,  and  left,  as  they  supposed  forever, 
the  "  golden  city  "  of  Ava.  Then  came  that 
blissful  journey  do^vn  the  Irawadi,  the  com- 
radeship with  the  British  officer  whose  lot 
was  cast  with  theirs  fpr  so  brief  a  time,  and 
finally,  the  first  sure  token  of  civilized  life — 
the  outlines  of  an  English  steamboat! 

As  their  Burmese  rowboat  grated  on  the 
shore,  two  British  officers  sprang  on  board 
to  extend  a  welcome  and  to  proffer  the  hos- 
pitality of  the  anchored  steamer.  There, 
Mrs.  Judson  spent  the  remainder  of  the  day, 
while  her  husband  went  to  the  camp,  a  few 
miles  down  stream.  In  the  evening  he  re- 
turned with  an  invitation  from  the  British 
general  to  come  at  once  to  his  quarters. 

The  reception  of  a  lady  is  always  an  event 
in  army  life,  and  she  who  was  heralded  as  the 
heroine  of  Ava  was  to  be  the  heroine  also 
of   the    British    soldiers.      Unusual    military 

[223] 


Ann  of  Ava 


honors  were  prepared  for  her  welcome  in 
camp.  As  a  mark  of  especial  attention,  Sir 
Archibald  Campbell  sent  his  own  son  to 
escort  her  from  the  steamer.  Upon  her  ar- 
rival he  himself  stood  on  the  shore  to  greet 
his  guest  and  to  conduct  her  to  a  tent  more 
commodious  than  his  own,  boasting  the  un- 
common luxury  of  a  veranda.  Through  all 
his  official  courtesy  ran  the  strain  of  a  gen- 
uine fatherly  kindness  which  would  never  be 
forgotten  by  its  recipients.  The  officers  of 
his  staff  vied  with  one  another  in  doing  honor 
to  their  lady  visitor  whose  gentle  heroism  im- 
pelled their  deepest  gallantry.  Their  cour- 
teous bearing  contrasted  as  sharply  with  the 
gruff  demeanor  of  the  Burmese  officers  as 
civilization  contrasts  with  heathendom. 

"  I  presume  to  say,"  wrote  Ann  Judson  in 
a  home  letter,  *'  that  no  persons  on  earth 
were  ever  happier  than  we  were  during  the 
fortnight  we  passed  at  the  British  camp. 
For  several  days  this  single  idea  wholly 
occupied  my  mind — that  we  were  out  of  the 
power  of  the  Burmese  government,  and  once 
more  under  the  protection  of  the  British. 
Our  feelings  continually  dictated  expressions 
[224] 


Ann  of  Ava 


like  this :  '  What  shall  we  render  to  the  Lord 
for  all  his  benefits  toward  us? '  " 

An  incident,  half  humorous,  half  pathetic, 
occurred  a  few  days  after  the  Judsons'  ar- 
rival at  camp.  General  Campbell  proposed 
to  give  a  dinner  to  the  Burmese  commis- 
sioners, and  to  make  it  an  affair  of  pomp  and 
magnificence  fully  expressing  his  nation's  dig- 
nity. As  if  by  an  enchanted  wand  the  camp 
was  transformed  into  a  wonderland  of  fes- 
tivity, with  floating  banners  and  crimson  and 
gold  garnishings  such  as  particularly  delight 
Oriental  fancy.  At  the  appointed  hour  the 
company  assembled  and,  while  the  band 
played,  marched  in  couples  toward  the  table, 
led  by  Sir  Archibald  Campbell,  who  walked 
in  solitary  state.  As  the  procession  neared 
the  tent  with  the  veranda  the  music  ceased, 
the  grand  march  halted,  and  every  guest, 
especially  the  Eurmese  to  whom  this  scene 
was  novelty  personified,  watched  intently  for 
the  next  act  in  the  spectacle. 

The  general  entered  the  tent  and  presently 
reappeared  with  a  lady  on  his  arm  whom  he 
led  to  the  table  and  seated  at  his  right  hand. 
That  was  the  psychologic  moment  when  the 

[225] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Burmese  commissioners  wished  devoutly  that 
the  ground  would  open  and  swallow  them, 
for  that  lady,  honored  above  all  others  by  the 
leading  personage  in  the  Burmese  empire  at 
that  time,  the  general  who  had  them  com- 
pletely at  his  mercy,  that  lady  could  place 
a  black  mark  of  condemnation  against  every 
Burmese  official  present,  save  one  whose 
record  was  clean.  She  was  the  teacher's  wife 
whom  they  had  treated  with  incivility  and 
cruelty  in  the  day  of  her  misfortune.  Judg- 
ing by  Burmese  standards  of  ethics,  their  day 
of  reckoning  had  come,  for  she  would  of 
course  retaliate  and  demand  their  punish- 
ment. They  and  their  wives  would  seek 
revenge  were  the  circumstances  reversed. 
"  Oif  with  their  heads  "  would  be  the  military 
command  next  in  order.  Little  they  knew 
Mrs.  Judson  or  the  Christianity  which  in- 
spired her  life! 

A  glance  around  the  table  revealed  to  her 
the  discomfiture  of  the  Burmese  guests.  One 
poor  man  was  suffering  palpable  remorse  for 
his  misdeeds.  Perspiration  covered  his  face, 
which  was  white  and  distorted  with  fear, 
while  he  trembled  as  if  seized  with  an  ague 
[226] 


Ann  of  Ava 


fit.  There  was  sufficient  reason  for  his  qualms 
of  conscience,  for  he  was  the  culprit  who 
had  brutally  scoffed  at  the  misery  he  might 
have  relieved. 

One  day  Mrs.  Judson  had  walked  several 
miles  to  his  house,  to  beseech  a  favor  for  her 
husband,  who  was  bound  with  five  pairs  of 
fetters  in  the  inner  prison,  and  suffering  from 
fever.  It  was  early  morning  when  she  had 
left  home,  but  so  long  was  she  kept  waiting 
for  an  audience,  that  it  was  high  noon  when 
she  presented  her  petition,  only  to  receive  a 
gruff  refusal.  As  she  turned  to  go,  he  caught 
sight  of  the  silk  umbrella  she  carried,  and 
since  it  pleased  his  fancy  he  must  needs 
possess  it  for  his  own.  In  vain  she  pleaded 
the  danger  of  walking  the  long  distance  with 
no  protection  from  the  scorching  midday  sun. 
If  he  must  have  her  parasol  would  he  not 
furnish  her  with  a  paper  one  to  shield  her 
from  the  heat?  Whereupon  he  laughed  a 
sneering  laugh,  and  replied  that  only  stout 
people  were  in  danger  of  sunstroke,  the  sun 
could  not  find  such  as  she,  thus  mocking  the 
very  suffering  which  had  wasted  her  to  a 
shadow, 

[«27] 


Ann  of  Ava 


Mrs.  Judson  could  almost  smile  now  in 
recollection  of  the  incident,  especially  at  sight 
of  the  poor  man's  dismay,  which  pity  bade 
her  relieve.  In  her  clear  Burmese  she  spoke 
a  few  encouraging  words  to  him,  assuring  him 
he  had  nothing  whatsoever  to  fear.  The 
British  officers  who  had  sensed  the  situation 
joined  her  in  efforts  to  set  him  at  ease,  but 
with  small  success.  Throughout  the  feast  he 
was  possessed  by  a  fear  he  could  not  conceal. 
So  much  for  the  difference  between  Christian 
and  heathen  standards  of  conduct! 

All  too  soon  the  time  of  departure  drew 
nigh,  when  the  Judsons  must  leave  the 
friendly  environment  of  the  British  camp, 
and  embark  on  the  river  journey  to  their  old 
home  in  Rangoon.  General  Campbell  ar- 
ranged for  their  passage  to  the  coast  on  a 
British  gunboat,  in  which  conveyance,  more 
novel  to  the  missionaries  than  Burmese  row- 
boat  or  Burmese  cart,  they  returned  to  the 
city  where,  thirteen  years  ago,  they  began  life 
as  pioneers  in  the  heathen  land  of  Burma. 
What  had  befallen  the  little  church  they  had 
founded  in  labor  and  sorrow?  Would  they 
find  it  broken  and  scattered,  or  upstanding 
[228] 


Ann  of  Ava 


and  stalwart?  Had  the  eighteen  Christian 
disciples  remained  loj^al  to  their  God  through 
all  the  turmoil  and  affliction?  A  few  hours 
would  tell,  for  already  they  were  in  sight  of 
the  golden  pagoda,  the  crowning  landmark  of 
Rangoon. 


[2«9] 


XVI 
THE  HOPIA  TREE 


AFTER  thirteen  years  of  residence  in 
/%  Burma,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Judson  found 
^  .A.  themselves  as  homeless  on  their  re- 
turn to  Rangoon  in  1826  as  upon  that  July 
day  when  they  first  landed  in  the  forbidding 
country.  The  mission  house  had  survived 
the  ravage  of  war,  but  the  mission  itself  had 
broken  ranks  and  dispersed.  The  mission- 
aries had  narrowly  escaped  death  and  had 
fled  to  Calcutta  to  wait  for  the  close  of  the 
war.  The  Burmese  Christians,  eighteen  in 
number,  had  scattered  in  alarm,  though  none 
but  two  had  failed  in  loyalty  to  the  holy  faith 
they  professed.  Four  of  them  hastened  to 
Rangoon  to  welcome  the  Judsons,  whose  fate 
had  been  so  long  a  sealed  mystery  to  the 
world  outside  of  Ava.  In  the  loyalty  of  a 
common  devotion  to  Christ  they  promised  to 
follow  the  American  teachers  whithersoever 
they  should  go  to  build  anew  the  shattered 
mission  of  Burma. 

When   Mr.   and   Mrs.    Judson   journeyed 
[230] 


Ann  of  Ava 


down  the  river  from  Ava  to  Rangoon  they 
carried  with  them  a  trophy  of  priceless  value. 
It  was  a  little  hard  roll  of  paper  which  had 
been  rescued,  seemingly  by  miracle,  from  the 
death  prison.  To  preserve  the  cherished  pos- 
session from  destruction,  Mrs.  Judson  had 
artfully  concealed  it  within  the  old  pillow 
used  by  her  husband  in  prison.  On  that  evil 
day  when  he  was  robbed  of  clothes  and  be- 
longings and  marched  away  to  Aungbinle, 
a  jailer  seized  the  pillow,  untied  its  covering, 
and  flung  away  in  contempt  the  meaningless 
roll  he  found  inside.  Some  hours  afterwards 
the  faithful  Moung  Ing  discovered  the  cot- 
ton-covered package  and,  prizing  it  as  the 
only  relic  of  the  vanished  prisoners,  took  it 
home  and  secreted  it.  Many  months  later 
the  hidden  treasure  was  brought  to  light,  and 
inside  the  tattered  covering  was  found  the 
unfinished  manuscript  of  the  Burmese  Bible, 
upon  which  Mr.  Judson  had  spent  ten  years 
of  arduous  labor.  Surely  it  was  God's  hand 
that  had  saved  those  precious  pages  from 
destruction. 

Eight    years    later    the    entire    Bible    was 
translated  into  Burmese.     It  has  been  said 

[231] 


Ann  of  Ava 


that  Mr.  Judson's  Bible  is  to  the  Burmese 
people  what  Luther's  is  to  the  Germans, 
and  the  King  James  version  to  English- 
speaking  races.  To  the  varied  adventures 
of  his  missionary  career,  even  in  large  meas- 
ure to  the  tragic  events  at  Ava,  Mr.  Judson 
owed  his  unique  opportunity  for  mastering 
the  intricacies  of  Burmese  speech. 

Ann  and  Adoniram  Judson  had  been  the 
pioneers  of  a  new  civilization  in  the  heathen 
land  of  Burma,  but,  like  most  pioneers,  the 
consummation  of  their  labor  was  left  for 
future  generations  to  achieve  and  enjoy.  As 
they  walked  through  the  squalid  streets  of 
Rangoon  in  March,  1826,  the  veil  was  not 
lifted  from  the  future  years  to  disclose  the 
transformed  structure  which  other  workmen 
would  build  upon  their  foundations.  Since 
they  were  the  first  American  teachers  to 
arrive  in  Burma,  they  could  scarcely  discern, 
out  of  their  small  beginnings  of  Christian 
education,  the  great  institution,  known  as 
Rangoon  Baptist  College,  which  some  day 
would  stand  upon  a  broad,  paved  street  in 
the  midst  of  the  city,  summoning  to  its  class- 
rooms more  than  one  thousand  students  from 
[232] 


Ann  of  Ava 


all  parts  of  the  empire.  With  only  the  sim- 
ple hand  press  brought  from  Serampore  to 
issue  their  modest  publications,  how  could 
they  foresee  the  well-equipped  printing  es- 
tablishment, known  as  the  American  Baptist 
]\Iission  Press,  which  in  the  coming  years 
would  stand  upon  a  thriving  business  street, 
employing  two  hundred  men  and  women  to 
print  Bibles,  school-books,  and  other  litera- 
ture in  the  dialects  of  the  principal  tribes  of 
Burma?  When  their  little  church  could  mus- 
ter but  three  native  members  out  of  the  deso- 
lation of  war,  how  could  such  a  diminutive 
band  foreshadow  the  one  hundred  and  fifty- 
eight  organized  churches  with  a  membership 
of  nearly  ten  thousand,  which  in  the  twen- 
tieth century  can  be  found  within  the  boun- 
daries of  Rangoon? 

These  beautiful  realities  of  the  future  to 
be  achieved  not  only  in  Rangoon  but  in  the 
chief  cities  and  towns  of  Burma,  were  with- 
held from  the  eager  gaze  of  the  first  mission- 
aries. Their  task  was  to  "  walk  by  faith,  not 
by  sight,"  and  "  blessed  are  they  who  have 
not  seen,  and  yet  have  believed."  The  hope 
which  inspired  their  pioneer  labor,  was  not 

[233] 


Ann  of  Ava 


unlike  the  Hope  of  Watts'  picture,  a  baffled, 
blindfolded  figure  upon  the  "  top  of  the 
world,"  drawing  determined  music  from  the 
lyre  of  one  string. 

To  remain  at  Rangoon  at  the  close  of  the 
war  seemed  a  wholly  imprudent  course. 
Anarchy,  famine,  and  wild  beasts  followed 
in  quick  succession.  Tigers  lurked  in  the 
outskirts  of  the  city,  carrying  off  cattle  and 
human  victims.  JVIoreover  the  city  was  under 
British  control  for  only  a  temporary  period, 
pending  the  final  ratification  of  peace  terms, 
after  which  the  old  despotic  regime  would  be 
resumed.  Thanks  to  the  war  it  was  no  longer 
necessary  to  live  under  the  Burmese  govern- 
ment in  order  to  live  among  Burmese  people. 
Among  the  spoils  of  war  Great  Britain  had 
claimed  a  long  strip  of  Burmese  territory 
bordering  upon  the  seacoast.  Already  the 
region  was  well  populated  with  Burmans,  and 
refugees  from  the  tyranny  of  Ava  would 
throng  increasingly  within  the  boundaries  of 
British  justice.  Somewhere  within  this  bor- 
derland of  humane  government,  the  mission- 
aries would  stake  their  claims  for  settlement. 

As  their  thoughts  were  turning  with  the 
[S34] 


Ann  of  Ava 


hardihood  of  the  true  pioneer  toward  the 
frontier  country,  Mr.  Judson  was  oppor- 
tunely invited  to  join  the  British  Civil  Com- 
missioner on  an  exploration  tour  in  the  new 
province  to  determine  the  site  of  its  capital 
city.  In  the  very  heart  of  the  jungle  the 
explorers  decided  to  build  the  city  of  the 
future  because  the  climate  was  invigorating 
and  the  elevation  high  and  commanding. 
With  a  prayer  of  dedication,  the  British  flag 
was  hoisted,  and  the  infant  settlement  named 
Amherst,  in  honor  of  the  Governor-general 
of  India. 

On  the  second  day  of  July,  1826,  the  Jud- 
son family,  preceded  by  the  four  Burmese 
Christians,  removed  from  Rangoon  to.  Am- 
herst to  create  out  of  its  wilderness  a  home 
and  a  mission.  Even  before  they  left  Ran- 
goon an  old  and  unwelcome  question  had 
thrust  in  its  claims  for  decision.  The  British 
Civil  Commissioner  was  to  be  sent  as  envoy 
to  Ava  to  negotiate  a  commercial  treaty  with 
the  Burmese  government,  and  Mr.  Judson 
was  urged  to  accompany  him  in  the  capacity 
of  British  ambassador.  At  first  he  vigor- 
ously demurred,  having  no  relish  for  further 

[235] 


Ann  of  Ava 


encounter  with  the  tricky  Burmese  govern- 
ment and  no  heart  to  leave  home  after  his 
long  and  painful  absence.  Perhaps  as  bait 
for  his  acceptance,  there  was  finally  offered 
him  that  golden  opportunity  which  never  yet 
had  he  been  able  to  resist.  If  he  would  join 
the  embassy,  they  would  agree  to  work  for 
the  insertion  of  a  clause  in  the  treaty,  insur- 
ing religious  liberty  to  the  subjects  of  Burma. 
A  vision  of  the  whole  country  open  to  the 
gospel  of  Christ  broke  down  every  scruple 
against  the  journey.  With  all  her  heart  Mrs. 
Judson  seconded  the  decision  to  go,  regard- 
less of  the  loneliness  in  store  for  herself  and 
Maria  in  their  wilderness  home. 

In  the  little  house  at  Amherst,  vacated  by 
the  British  Civil  Superintendent  for  their 
occupancy,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Judson  prayed  to- 
gether and  kissed  each  other  good-by  for  the 
separation  which  promised  to  be  far  less  long 
and  hazardous  than  many  they  had  experi- 
enced in  their  adventurous  lives.  They  had 
been  preserved  through  such  extreme  perils 
and  hardships  that  an  absence  of  three  or 
four  months,  in  circumstances  of  safety  and 
comfort,  seemed  a  matter  of  trivial  import. 
[236] 


Ann  of  Ava 


In  expectation  of  a  speedy  reunion,  and  a 
home  life  sanctified  by  the  sorrow  of  the 
past,  Mrs.  Judson  watched  her  husband  de- 
part out  of  the  peace  of  the  tropical  forest 
into  the  friction  and  discontent  of  the  heathen 
city  of  Ava. 

After  he  had  gone  she  went  eagerly  to 
work,  fashioning  visible  evidences  of  the  mis- 
sion they  dreamed  of  establishing  in  the  new 
Burma.  Within  the  passage  of  two  months' 
time,  she  had  erected  a  bamboo  house  and 
two  schoolhouses,  in  one  of  which  she  col- 
lected ten  pupils  for  Moung  Ing  to  instruct, 
reserving  the  other  for  the  girls'  school  she 
planned  to  teach  herself.  Each  Sunday  she 
held  services  for  the  small  but  loyal  congre- 
gation of  Burmese  Christians.  "  After  all 
our  sufferings  and  afflictions,"  she  wrote  her 
husband,  "  I  cannot  but  hope  that  God  has 
mercy  and  a  blessing  in  store  for  us.  Let 
us  strive  to  obtain  it  by  our  prayers  and 
holy  life." 

When  late  September  fell  upon  the  unquiet 
city  of  Ava,  Mr.  Judson  received  another 
letter  from  his  wife  which  rang  with  hopeful- 
ness and  brought  a  tinge  of  relief  to  his  con- 

[237] 


Ann  of  Ava 


stant  solicitude  for  the  little  jungle  home 
he  had  left  behind.  "  I  have  this  day  moved 
into  the  new  house,"  wrote  INIrs.  Judson, 
"  and  for  the  first  time  since  we  were  broken 
up  at  Ava  feel  myself  at  home.  The  house 
is  large  and  convenient,  and  if  you  were  here 
I  should  feel  quite  happy.  The  native  popu- 
lation is  increasing  very  fast,  and  things  wear 
a  favorable  aspect.  Moung  Ing's  school  has 
commenced  with  ten  scholars,  and  more  are 
expected.  Poor  little  Maria  is  still  feeble. 
I  sometimes  hope  she  is  getting  better;  then 
again  she  declines  to  her  former  weakness. 
When  I  ask  her  where  papa  is,  she  always 
starts  up  and  points  toward  the  sea.  The 
servants  behave  very  well  and  I  have  no  trou- 
ble about  anything  excepting  you  and  Maria. 
Pray  take  care  of  yourself,  particularly  as 
regards  the  intermittent  fever  at  Ava.  May 
God  preserve  and  bless  you,  and  restore  you 
in  safety  to  your  new  and  old  home,  is  the 
prayer  of  your  affectionate  Ann." 

The  solace  of  this  message  brought  to  ]SIr. 
Judson  no  suggestion  of  the  solemn,  heart- 
breaking reality  which   a  few  weeks  would 
disclose.     No  warning  voice  told  him,  as  he 
[288] 


Ann  of  Ava 


chafed  at  the  long  absence  from  home,  that 
away  toward  the  coast  in  the  frontier  town 
of  Amherst,  the  wife  who  had  ministered  to 
him  with  such  matchless  devotion,  would  soon 
need  his  succor  as  she  had  never  needed  be- 
fore and  would  never  need  again.  How 
could  he  know  that  the  slip  of  paper  he  held 
in  his  hand  bore  the  last  written  word  he 
would  ever  receive  from  Ann,  his  dearly 
loved  Ann? 

The  annoying  events  of  every  day  in  the 
too  familiar  environment  of  Ava  kept  mind 
and  heart  busily  occupied  but  perpetually 
disquieted.  Associations  too  painful  to  re- 
call, yet  too  evident  to  escape,  preyed  daily 
upon  his  senses.  Again  he  was  entangled 
in  the  maze  of  stupidity  and  conceit  which 
comprised  the  government  of  Burma.  And 
again,  alas,  he  was  confounded  by  the  flat 
refusal  of  the  king  to  grant  religious  freedom 
to  his  subjects.  What  unholy  spell  was  cast 
upon  the  name  of  Ava  to  yield  such  a  harvest 
of  galling  experience! 

Why  had  he  come?  The  trip  had  proved 
one  long,  unrelieved  disappointment,  yet  at 
its  outset  it  had  looked  so   promising,   had 

[239] 


Ann  of  Ava 


seemed  to  indicate  so  plainly  the  path  of 
duty.  With  torturing  insistence  he  asked 
that  question  on  the  day  in  November  when 
a  black  sealed  letter  was  laid  cautiously  in 
his  hands.  Upon  sight  of  the  envelope,  bear- 
ing its  emblem  of  grief,  he  concluded  that 
frail  little  Maria  had  lost  hold  of  life.  With 
thankfulness  too  deep  for  tears,  that  the 
mother  was  spared,  he  went  into  his  room, 
broke  the  seal,  and  read  the  opening  sentence 
of  a  letter  written  by  a  British  officer  in 
Amherst. 

"My  dear  Sir: — To  one  who  has  suffered 
so  much,  and  with  such  exemplary  fortitude, 
there  needs  but  little  preface  to  tell  a  tale 
of  distress.  It  were  cruel  indeed  to  torture 
you  with  doubt  and  suspense.  To  sum  up 
the  unhappy  tidings  in  a  few  words,  Mrs, 
Judson  is  no  more.  .  .  ."  In  broken  snatches 
he  got  through  the  dreadful  letter,  every 
phrase  of  which  was  written,  as  if  by  fire, 
upon  his  heart.  Early  in  October  she  was 
taken  sick  with  fever  so  violent  that  from 
the  first  a  sure  instinct  told  her  she  could 
not  recover.  A  skilful  Enghsh  physician 
[240] 


The  Hopia  Tree 


Ann  of  Ava 


was  in  constant  attendance,  and  through  the 
kindness  of  the  Civil  Superintendent,  a 
European  nurse  was  procured  from  the 
forty-fifth  regiment.  Everything  which  a 
loving  appreciation  could  prompt  was  done 
for  her  comfort  and  healing,  but  to  no  avail. 
For  two  weeks  the  fever  rose  and  fell,  in- 
creased and  abated,  until  when  its  course 
was  fully  run,  her  strength  was  also  com- 
pletely spent.  On  the  6th  of  October,  in 
the  dusk  of  evening,  her  spirit  went  home 
to  God.  "  We  have  buried  her,"  so  the  letter 
ran,  "  near  the  spot  where  she  first  landed, 
and  I  have  put  up  a  small,  rude  fence  around 
the  grave,  to  protect  it  from  incautious  in- 
trusions. Your  little  girl,  Maria,  is  much 
better.  Mrs.  Wade  has  taken  charge  of  her, 
and  I  hope  she  will  continue  to  thrive  under 
her  care." 

Some  weeks  later,  a  broken-hearted  man 
sat  down  in  the  desolate  house  at  Amherst 
and  wrote  to  the  mother  of  Ann,  over  in  the 
Hasseltine  homestead  in  Bradford.  This  is 
the  story  of  those  last  days  as  his  pen 
recorded  it: 

[241] 


Ann  of  Ava 


"Amherst,  February  4,  1827. 

"  Amid  the  desolation  that  death  has  made, 
I  take  up  my  pen  once  more  to  address  the 
mother  of  my  beloved  Ann.  I  am  sitting 
in  the  house  she  built,  in  the  room  where  she 
breathed  her  last,  and  at  a  window  from 
which  I  see  the  hopia  tree  that  stands  at  the 
head  of  her  grave,  and  the  top  of  the  *  small, 
rude  fence '  which  they  have  put  up  '  to  pro- 
tect it  from  incautious  intrusion.' 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wade  are  living  in  the 
house,  having  arrived  here  about  a  month 
after  Ann's  death;  and  Mrs.  Wade  has  taken 
charge  of  my  poor  motherless  JNIaria.  I  was 
unable  to  get  any  accounts  of  the  child  at 
Rangoon;  and  it  was  only  on  my  arriving 
here,  the  24th  ultimo,  that  I  learned  she  was 
still  alive.  Mr.  Wade  met  me  at  the  landing- 
place,  and  as  I  passed  on  to  the  house  one 
and  another  of  the  native  Christians  came 
out,  and  when  they  saw  me  they  began  to 
weep.  At  length  we  reached  the  house,  and 
I  almost  expected  to  see  my  love  coming  out 
to  meet  me,  as  usual.  But  no;  I  saw  only  in 
the  arms  of  Mrs.  Wade  a  poor  little  puny 
child,  who  could  not  recognize  her  weeping 
[242] 


Ann  of  Ava 


father,  and  from  whose  infant  mind  had  long 
been  erased  all  recollection  of  the  mother 
who  had  loved  her  so  much. 

"  She  turned  away  from  me  in  alarm,  and 
I,  obliged  to  seek  comfort  elsewhere,  found 
my  way  to  the  grave.  But  who  ever  obtained 
comfort  there?  Thence  I  went  to  the  house 
in  which  I  left  her,  and  looked  at  the  spot 
where  we  last  knelt  in  prayer  and  where  we 
exchanged  the  parting  kiss. 

"  It  seems  that  her  head  was  much  af- 
fected during  her  last  days,  and  she  said 
but  little.  She  sometimes  complained  thus: 
*  The  teacher  is  long  in  coming;  and  the  new 
missionaries  are  long  in  coming;  I  must  die 
alone,  and  leave  my  little  one;  but  as  it 
is  the  will  of  God,  I  acquiesce  in  his  will. 
I  am  not  afraid  of  death,  but  I  am 
afraid  I  shall  not  be  able  to  bear  these 
pains.  Tell  the  teacher  that  the  disease  was 
most  violent,  and  I  could  not  write;  tell  him 
how  I  suffered  and  died;  tell  him  all  that  you 
see;  and  take  care  of  the  house  and  things 
until  he  returns.'  When  she  was  unable  to 
notice  anything  else,  she  would  still  call  the 
child  to   her,   and   charge   the   nurse   to   be 

[248] 


Ann  of  Ava 


kind  to  it,  and  indulge  it  in  everything,  un- 
til its  father  should  return.  The  last  day  or 
two  she  lay  almost  senseless  and  motionless, 
on  one  side,  her  head  reclining  on  her  arm, 
her  eyes  closed;  and  at  eight  in  the  evening, 
with  one  exclamation  of  distress  in  the  Bur- 
mese language,  she  ceased  to  breathe. 

"  The  doctor  is  decidedly  of  opinion  that 
the  fatal  termination  of  the  fever  is  not  to 
be  ascribed  to  the  localities  of  the  new  settle- 
ment, but  chiefly  to  the  weakness  of  her  con- 
stitution, occasioned  by  the  severe  privations 
and  long-protracted  sufferings  she  endured 
at  Ava.  O,  with  what  meekness,  and  pa- 
tience, and  magnanimity  and  Christian  forti- 
tude she  bore  those  sufferings!  And  can  I 
wish  they  had  been  less?  Can  I  sacri- 
legiously wish  to  rob  her  crown  of  a  single 
gem?  Much  she  saw  and  suffered  of  the 
evil  of  this  evil  world,  and  eminently  was  she 
qualified  to  relish  and  enjoy  the  pure  and 
holy  rest  into  which  she  has  entered.  True, 
she  has  been  taken  from  a  sphere  in  which 
she  was  singularly  qualified,  by  her  natural 
disposition,  her  winning  manners,  her  devoted 
zeal,  and  her  perfect  acquaintance  with  the 
[244] 


Ann  of  Ava 


language,  to  be  extensively  serviceable  to  the 
cause  of  Christ;  true,  she  has  been  torn 
from  her  husband's  bleeding  heart  and  from 
her  darling  babe;  but  infinite  wisdom  and 
love  have  presided,  as  ever,  in  this  most 
afflicting  dispensation.  Faith  decides  that  it 
is  all  right,  and  the  decision  of  faith  eternity 
will  soon  confirm." 

In  the  spring  of  that  sad  New  Year,  the 
child  Maria,  aged  two  years  and  three 
months,  was  laid  by  the  side  of  her  mother 
under  the  hopia  tree,  which  shaded  their 
graves  with  its  fair  name  of  hope.  Hope, 
sometimes  blithesome  and  radiant,  sometimes 
downcast  and  suffering,  but  always  hope  un- 
conquerable, had  inspired  the  life  of  Ann 
Hasseltine  Judson  from  its  beginning  in  the 
hill  village  of  New  England  to  its  close 
in  the  jungle  village  of  Burma.  But  lying 
deeper  than  hope,  deeper  even  than  faith, 
down  in  her  heart  of  hearts  was  buried  the 
secret  which  had  transformed  her  life, — 
"  Whom,  not  having  seen,  I  love." 

END 

[245] 


Hist  of 

iVItsisiton  IBoarbs!  anb 

Corresponbentsi 

INASMUCH  as  the  publishing  business  of   the   Missionary  Education  Move- 
ment is  conducted  in  behalf  of  the  Foreign  and  Home  Mission  Boards  and 
Societies  of  the  United  States  and  Canada,  the  Movement  conducts  no  retail 
business,  but  directs  all  orders  to  the  Mission  Boards. 

Orders  for  Uterature  on  foreign  and  home  missions  should  be  addressed  to  the 
secretaries  representing  those  organizations,  who  are  prepared  to  furnish  special 
helps  to  leaders  of  mission  study  classes  and  to  other  missionary  workers. 

lif  the  address  of  the  secretary  of  the  foreign  or  home  mission  board  or  society 
of  your  denomination  is  not  included  herein,  cJrders  may  be  sent  to  the  Missionary 
Education  Movement,  but  in  no  case  will  the  Movement  fill  orders  from  persons 
who  belong  to  the  Churches  indicated  in  this  list.  All  persons  ordering  directly 
from  the  Missionary  Education  Movement  Jire  requested  to  indicate  their  denomi- 
nation  when  ordering. 

Advent  Christian — American  Advent  Mission  Society,  Rev.  George  E.  Tyler, 
1 60  Warren  Street,  Boston,  Mass. 

Associate  Reformed  Presbyterian — Young  People's  Christian  Union  and  Sab- 
bath School  Work,  Rev.  J.  W.  Carson,  Newberry,  S.  C. 

Baptist  (North) — Department  of  Missionary  Education  of  the  Cooperating 
Organizations  of  the  Northern  Baptist  Convention.  23  Elast  26th  Street, 
New  York  City. 

Baptist  (South) — Foreign  Mission  Board  of  the  Southern  Baptist  Convention, 
Rev.  T.  B.  Ray,  1103  Main  Street,  Richmond,  Va.  (Correspondence  con- 
cerning both  foreign  and  home  missions.) 

Baptist  (Ck>LORSD) — Foreign  Mission  Board  of  the  National  Baptist  Conven- 
tion, Rev.  L.  G.  Jordan,  701  South  Nineteenth  Street,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 

Christian — The  Mission  Board  of  the  Christian  Church;  Foreign  Missions,  Rev. 
M.  T.  Morrill;  Home  Missions,  Rev.  Omer  S.  Thomas,  C.  P.  A.  Building, 
Dayton,  Ohio. 

Christian  Reformed — Board  of  Heathen  Missions,  Rev,  Henry  Beets,  2050 
Francis  Avenue,  S.  E.,  Grand  Rapids,  Mich. 

CntmcH  OF  THE  Brethren — General  Mission  Board  of  the  Church  of  the  Breth'. 
ren.  Rev.  Galen  B.  Royer,  Elgin,  Dl. 

Congregational — American  Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions,  Rev 

D.  Brewer  Eddy,  14  Beacon  Street.  Boston,  Mass. 
American  Missionary  Association,  Rev.  C.  J.  Ryder,  287  Fourth  Avenue,  New 

York  City. 
The  (xmgregational   Home  Missionary  Society,  Rev.  William  S.  Beard,   287 

Fourth  Avenue,  New  York  City. 

Disciples  of  Christ — Foreign  Christian  Missionary  Society,  Rev.  Stephen  J. 
Corey,  Box  884,  Cincinnati,  Ohio. 
The  American  Christian  Missionary  Society,  Mr.  R.  M.  Hopkins,  Carew  Build- 
iag,  Cincinnati,  Ohio. 


Evangelical  Association — Missionary  Society  of  the  Evangelical  Association, 
Rev.  George  Johnson,  1903  Woodland  Avenue,  S.  E.,  Cleveland,  Ohio. 

Evangelical  Lutheran — Board  of  Foreign  Missions  of  the  General  Council  of 

the  Evangelical  Lutheran  Church  in  N.  A.,  Rev.  George  Drach,  Trappe,  Pa. 
Board  of  Home  Missions  of  the  General  Council  of  the  Evangelical  Lutheran 

Church  in  North  America,  805-807  Drexel  Building,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 
Board  of  Foreign  Missions  of  the  General  Synod  of  the  Evangelical  Lutheran 

Church  in  the  U.  S.  A.,  Rev.  L.  B.  Wolf,  2i  West  Saratoga  Street,  Baltimore, 

Md. 
Board  of  Home  Missions  and  Church  Extension  of  the  Evangelical  Lutheran 

Church.  Rev.  H.  H.  Weber,  York,  Pa. 
Board  of  Foreign  Missions  of  the  United  Synod  of  the  Evangelical  Lutheran 

Church  in  the  South,  Rev.  C.  L.  Brown,  Columbia,  S.  C.         ^ 

Friends — American  Friends  Board  of  Foreign  Missions,   Mr.  Ross  A.  Hadley, 
Richmond,  Ind. 
Evangelistic  and  Church  Extension  Board  of  the  Friends  Five  Years'  Meeting, 
Mr.  Harry  R.  Keates,  1314  Lyon  Street,  Des  Moines,  Iowa. 

German  Evangelical — Foreign  Mission  Board,  German  Evangelical  Synod  of 
North  America,  Rev.  E.  Schmidt,  1377  Main  Street,  Buffalo,  N.  Y. 
Board  of  Home  Missions  of  the  Germian  Evangelical  Synod  of  North  Americai 
Evansville,  Ind. 

Methodist  Episcopal — The  Department  of  Missionary  Education.  Represent- 
ing the  Board  of  Foreign  Missions,  the  Board  of  Home  Missions  and  Church 
Extension,  and  the  Board  of  Sunday  Schools.  150  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York 
City. 

Methodist  Episcopal  (South) — The  Educational  Department  of  the  Board  of 
Missions  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  South,  Rev.  E.  H.  Rawlings, 
810  Broadway,  Nashville,  Tenn.  (Correspondence  concerning  both  foreign 
and  home  missions.) 

Methodist  Protestant — Board  of  Foreign  Missions  of  the  Methodist  Protestant 
Church,  Rev.  Fred.  C.  Klein,  316  North  Charles  Street,  Baltimore,  Md. 
Board  of  Home  Missions  of  the  Methodist  Protestant  Church,  Rev.  Charles  H. 
Beck,  West  Lafayette,  Ohio. 

Moravian — The  Department  of  Missionary  Education  of  the  Moravian  Church 
in  America,  Northern  Province,  Rev.  F.  W.  Stengel,  Lititz,  Pa. 

Presbyterian  (U.  S.  A.) — The  Board  of  Foreign  Missions  of  the  Presbyterian 

Church  in  the  U.  S.  A.,  Mr.  B.  Carter  Millikin,  Educational  Secretary;  Rev. 

George  H.  Trull,  Sunday  School  Secretary,  156  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York  City. 

Board  of  Home  Missions  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  U.  S.  A.,  Mr.  J. 

Edward  Tompkins,  156  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York  City. 

Presbyterian  (U.  S.) — Executive  Committee  of  Foreign  Missions  of  the  Presby- 
terian Church  in  the  U.  S.,  Mr.  John  I.  Armstrong,  154  Fifth  Avenue,  North, 
Nashville,  Tenn. 
General  Assembly's  Home  Missions  of   the  Presbyterian  Church  in  the  U.  S. 
Rev.  S.  L.  Morris,  1522  Hurt  Building,  Atlanta,  Ga. 

Protestant  Episcopal — The  Domestic  and  Foreign  Missionary  Society  of  the 
Protestant  Episcopal  Church  in  the  U.  S.  A.,  Mr.  W.  C.  Sturgis,  281  Fourth 
Avenue,  New  York  City. 

Reformed  Church  in  America — Board  of  Foreign  Missions,  Rev.  E.  W.  Miller; 
Board  of  Home  Missions,  Rev.  W.  T.  Demarest;  Board  of  Publication  and 
Bible  School  Work,  Rev.  T.  F.  Bayles.  25  East  Twenty-second  Street,  New 
York  City. 

Reformed  Church  in  the  United  States — Mission  Study  Department.  Rep- 
resenting the  Boards  of  Home  and  Foreign|  Missions,  Mr.  John  H.  Poor- 
man,  304  Reformed  Church  Building,  Fifteenth  and  Race  Streets,  Philadel- 
phia, Pa. 


United  Brethren  in  Christ — Foreign  Missionary  Society,  Rev.  S.  S.  Hough, 

Otterbein  Press  Building,  Dayton,  Ohio. 
Home  Missionary  Society,  Miss  Lyda  B.  Wiggim,  United  Brethren  Building, 

Dayton,  Ohio. 
Young  People's  Work,  Rev.  O.  T.  Deever,  Otterbein  Press  Building,  Dayton, 

Ohio. 

United  Evangelical — Home  and  Foreign  Missionary  Society  of  the  United 
Evangelical  Church  and  Board  of  Xhurch  Extension,  Rev.  B.  H.  Niebel, 
Penbrook,  Pa. 

United  Norwegian  Lutheran — Board  of  Foreign  Missions  United  Norwegian 
Lutheran  Church  of  America,  Rev.  M.  Saterlie,  425-429  South  Fourth  Street, 
Minneapolis,  Minn. 
Board  of  Home  Missions,  United  Norwegian  Lutheran  Church  of  America,  Rev. 
Olaf  Gvildseth,  425  South  Fourth  Street,  Minneapolis,  Minn. 

United  Presbyterian — Mission  Study  Department  of  the  Board  of  Foreign  Mis- 
sions of  the  United  Presbyterian  Church  of  North  America,  Rev.  James  K. 
Quay,  200  North  Fifteenth  Street,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 
Board  of  Home  Missions  of  the  United  Presbyterian  Church  of  North  America, 
Rev.  R.  A.  Hutchison,  209  Ninth  Street,  Pittsburgh,  Pa. 

Universalis  r — Department  of  Missionary  Education  of  the  General  Sunday 
School  Association  of  the  Universalist  Church,  Rev.  A.  Gertrude  Earle, 
Methuen,  Mass. 

CANADIAN  BOARDS 

Baptist — The  Canadian  Baptist  Foreign  Mission  Board,  Rev.  J.  G.  Brown,  223 
Church  Street,  Toronto,  Ontario. 

Church  of  England — The  Missionary  Society  of  the  Church  of  England  in 
Canada,  Rev.  Canon  S.  Gould,  131  Confederation  Life  Building,  Toronto, 
Ontario. 

Congregational — Canada  Congregational  Foreign  Missionary  Society,  Miss  EfiSe 
Jamieson,  23  Woodlawn  Avenue,  East,  Toronto,  Ontario. 

Methodist — Young  People's  Forward  Movement  Department  of  the  Missionary 
Society  of  the  Methodist  Church,;.Canada,  Rev.  F.  C.  Stephenson,  299  Queen 
Street,  West,  Toronto,  Ontario. 

Presbyterian — Presbyterian  Church  in  Canada,  Board  of  Foreign  Missions,  Rev. 
A.  E.  Armstrong,  439  Confederation  Life  Building,  Toronto,  Ontario. 


P\  REGlONA^  jSRARV  FAClLil 


A     000  164  477     2 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


'1^-1 


M: 


'■im 


